My Name is Oliver Wood
by Ulysses Ward
Summary: It's not easy being a Keeper. You've got to be physically and mentally tough. Charlie used to say you had to have a short memory, and over the years I'd have to say I agree with him. People tell me that I act like Quidditch is a matter of life and death, and honestly that kinda offends me. Personally I believe it's much more important than that.
1. Chapter 1

My name is Oliver Wood, and I was seven years old when I fell in love with Quidditch. Scotland was to play England in their first game of the 1982 World Cup, and nobody was expecting much of a contest. England had put together their best squad since the 1964 team that won the cup on home soil. This 1982 team had been named, "The Unbeatables". They had the punishing beater pair of Terry Carver and Bertrand Jewell who played together at Falmouth. They had Darnell Dawson, the British and Irish Quidditch league's MVP; the first keeper to win that award in over a decade. Their chaser line was completely overpowered, and even their reserves had enough talent to beat any of the other teams in the cup. Their seeker was a woman by the name of Nola Travis who was so insane that it was rumored she flew against a Hungarian Horntail for practice. I always thought that part was a load of bollocks, but years later when I heard about Harry in the Triwizard Tournament I conceded that it might have been truth.

I remember sitting in the stadium with my Dad before the game started. There were thousands of Scotland fans all around us, and the atmosphere was exhilarating. The crowd's chanting drowned out all of the others noises around me. My gaze was fixed on the two teams warming up across the pitch. They were sweeping and circling back and forth across the sky like sharks tracking their prey. I could barely sit still. The anticipation of the start of the match made me feel like pixies were trying to break out of my stomach. I inhaled deeply trying to calm myself, and captured the stench of body odor, beer, and sweat. I gagged rather violently, and my father laughed and patted me on the back.

"Steady there Oliver," he yelled over the roar of the crowd.

"Da, does Scotland have a chance to win it?" I asked.

He laughed again and wrapped his arm around me. "We'll see son, there's always a chance."

I knew then and there that Scotland was going to win that match. I could just feel it. It didn't matter that England had a far superior team, or that every expert in the business expected Scotland to get slaughtered. There was no way these screaming, passionate fans around me could be wrong, and when the whistle blew to start the game my tiny voice joined them.

Scotland got decimated though. To this day it remains one of the most brutally one-sided games of Quidditch I can remember. Each time England scored the crowd around me got quieter and quieter. Scotland was fortunate enough to score twice, but it didn't even feel like a cheap consolation as England was ahead by 220 by the time Travis caught the snitch an hour in. When the game ended the English fans sang a mocking version of "God Save the Queen", and their players flew off the pitch without so much as giving the Scots a handshake. I felt like I had been stabbed in the gut. Like my entire world had been shattered. Even my Dad's promise of ice cream didn't cheer me up as we began to head out of the stadium. That's when I saw the Scottish Quidditch team start to fly over to the supporter's section. As they got closer I saw that they had their hands raised up and clapping. They were applauding the fans. When they got close enough to see clearly the people around me regained some of the fervor, and returned the applause. Soon they started up the chants and songs I had heard at the beginning of the game. I felt shivers race up and down my body, and joined my father and the others in the clapping and singing. I blinked my eyes several times to avoid letting tears escape.

I fell in love with Quidditch that day not because of how the game was played, but because of the passion I saw and felt. I wanted to become a Quidditch player, and I didn't even care if I lost every game I played. I learned that day that there was passion even in losing, and it was important I learned that because I've lost a lot of Quidditch games.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

 _"McDonald with the Quaffle now, advancing up the right side…Lowe makes the overlapping run and McDonald slides it to him…Lowe keeps it himself…he cuts in on his left and goes for the shot! No! It's a pump fake! Irvin Dawson bought it completely and Lowe scores his third goal of the day in the left hoop with ease! Magpies 120 Cannons 30._

"Come on Dawson that's the second time he's got you with that move, keep up!" I said to the radio on the table in front of me.

"You tell 'em Ollie," my Mum said with a smile. She came across the room and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Ma!" I cried trying to squirm away from her.

"Oh indulge me Oliver," she said. "I'm only going to have you in the house for a little bit longer." She ran her hands through my hair, and I didn't stop her. I'd never admit it to anyone, but I enjoyed it when Mum played with my hair.

" _Oh my! Evans picks out Lowe making a run right through the Cannon's chaser line, and the Cannon's beaters are way out of position!_

I immediately turned my attention back to the radio, and closed my eyes, trying to picture the players flying around in my head.

" _Lowe is in on goal and one-on-on with Dawson...He fakes lef-no right! SHOOTS! And goodness what a save by Dawson! He had to go full stretch, but he just managed to deflect Lowe's shot wide of the right hoop! Irvin Dawson is almost single handedly keeping the Cannons in snitch range!_

"Looks like he heard you love," my Mum said. We both laughed.

Mum was a very warm person, she was the kind of woman who would go and sit next to someone alone in a room just so they wouldn't get too discouraged. She had dark auburn hair, and a face full of freckles. She was more round shaped than slender, but to me it just made her look genuine. My Dad and I shared brown hair and eyes, but my Mum always said I got her nose and ears.

"How bad is Chudley losing?" I heard my father call from the hallway. He rounded the corner and joined me on the couch in the living room.

"They're only down 90 Da. Still gonna be in range for a bit." I said.

"I suppose now would be as good a time as any for Yates to get his first snitch of the season."

"Dawson's really kept 'em in this one so far."

"Yeah? Well with any luck he'll get picked up at the end of the season by a decent team." Dad said.

"Or maybe he'll stay with the Cannons and they'll really start to turn things around." I finished and looked at my father. We both held eye contact for a solid few seconds before both bursting our laughing.

"Oi! You both best quit pickin' at those lads, it's bad luck!" My Mum said.

"Well if that's true, then everyone in the UK's had bad luck for years." My Dad countered. This earned him a playful swat on the head from Mum.

My Dad was a burly square man with a full goatee that had been getting a bit grayer in the past few years. His brown hair was thinning out, and his hairline was rapidly receding. It was not wise to bring that up though. He had a witty sense of humor, and loved to make other people laugh.

"I'd wager Dawson's gone before the December transfer window closes. Probably prayin' to whatever god will listen that his agent can secure him a solid deal."

I giggled at my Dad's statement. "I bet he'd even take a transfer deal to American if it means getting out of Chudley."

This was the ritual my family participated in since I was a little boy. My Dad and I would sit on the couch in the living room and listen to the weekend broad cast of the British and Irish Quidditch League. When I got a bit older Dad and I would talk about the games, transfers, which team's manager was likely to get sacked next, anything Quidditch related. My Mum would join our conversations often, but mostly it was to make sure we didn't speak too badly of any of the players. She had an issue with people being too critical of others when they weren't around to hear it for themselves. My Dad grew up supporting Puddlemere United, so I guess you could they were my "favorite" team. To be honest though I didn't care who was playing as long as it was Quidditch. I think it was those weekends I missed the most when I went off to Hogwarts. It was so easy at home to immerse myself in the games, and Dad being a life-long Quidditch fan like myself was the only person who I could really have in-depth conversations with about the sport.

Soon enough though it was September, and I would have to spend my weekends listening to the broadcast alone. I wasn't too put out by that thought though. Going to Hogwarts was something that I had been looking forward to for years. I couldn't wait for the first Quidditch match of the year though I was pretty put out when Dad told me first years weren't allowed to try out for their house's team. Still even the opportunity to _see_ Quidditch had me excited. My Dad had taken me to a Puddlemere game every year for my birthday, and it was always the highlight of my existence. Now I had the chance to see seven games a year!

When I arrived at the castle that first night I was awestruck like the rest of the first years around me. I'd never seen a structure so magnificent as Hogwarts before. The towers and terraces partly covered by dark clouds, and the twinkling of light from its windows gave the castle a mysterious and almost ominous look. I stayed silent throughout the entire boat ride across the lake. It seemed almost rude to talk during what felt like an almost holy experience. I was surprisingly at peace out on the water. Something about the gentle swaying of the boat, and the soft splashes around me calmed my nerves. It was a temporary calm though that ended abruptly when we washed ashore and made our way outside the Great Hall. Anxiety crept up on me as I heard my name called out to be sorted. I was shaking and sweating by the time the hat was put on me. I'll be honest, I don't really remember what the hat said to me. I think it was something about "bravery" or "heart in the face of doubt." Anyway, what mattered was that I was placed me in Gryffindor. My Dad was in Gryffindor when he went to Hogwarts, and more important to eleven year old me was that Charlie Weasley was in Gryffindor.

Even first years had heard the stories about Charlie Weasley. He joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and immediately replaced their original starting seeker, as a _second_ _year._ He caught every single snitch that season, and Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup by a landslide. Now it certainly helped that the team around Charlie were all veteran players, but still the kid was legendary. Last year was definitely a rebuilding season for Gryffindor, and most likely this year would be as well, but with Charlie on the team I was certain they'd pull out at least one win. I couldn't wait to be a second year so I could get the chance to join up, but for the moment I was content to be a fan.

That evening I remember bursting through the door to my dormitory filled with excitement that had me bouncing on my feet. There was only one other boy in the room at the time. A red-head who was mechanically un-packing his trunk, and sorting his clothes into drawers.

"Can you believe that we're in the same house as _the_ Charlie Weasley?" I said plopping myself down on my bed.

"Well yes I suppose I can believe it, he is my brother after all." The boy said. He turned around and I could see he had on horrible looking horn-rimmed glasses which barley covered up the scattering of freckles on his face.

"Shut up. You're related to Charlie Weasley?" At this point I had sprung up to a standing position, and was walking over to the kid.

"Indeed." He said while extending his arm. "Percy Weasley, pleased to meet you." He spoke with a voice that was overly polite and almost condescending. I grabbed his hand quickly and rather enthusiastically shook it.

"My name's Oliver. It must be incredible havin' a Quidditch pro like him as a brother!"

Percy returned to unloading his trunk. "Well I suppose he is quite good. Personally though I plan on achieving a bit more than just being good at a game."

"It's not _just_ a game." I demanded. "It's about passion, and well er- I don't know, proving that you're more than what you might look like."

"You sound like my brother Ronald."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Seven. Six brothers and a sister."

"Wow. Big family."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Percy asked me.

"Nah I'm an only child. My Mum has a uh- _theroid_ problem or something, made it difficult for her to have kids.

" _Thyroid._ Well it sounds like she was lucky to have you."

"Yup! And I don't mind being an only child so much. I got to spend a lot of time with my Dad, mostly talking about Quidditch.

"You are quite obsessed with that sport aren't you?"

"Yup! And I doubt I'll letcha forget it!" I let out a laugh, but Percy just stared at me for a second. He didn't laugh at much.

My first year at Hogwarts seemed to rush by. I remember the feeling of pride during my first flying lesion with Madam Hooch. I rarely had the chance to ride a broom before then. My family didn't have a very spacious yard, so my father had only taken me out to the country to go flying a few times. I went to every single Quidditch game. I didn't even care if Gryffindor wasn't playing. I was enchanted by the possibility that it might someday be me out on that pitch with the whole school chanting my name like they did for Charlie. Gryffindor didn't win the cup that year, despite Charlie catching the snitch in every game. Our chasers and beaters needed A LOT of work, and I was confident that I could earn a spot among them next year.


	3. Chapter 3

"All right Ollie, remember to release the ball a little later this time! Off you go now!"

I gave a nod to my father, and began to accelerate towards the hoops in front of me. I leaned forward on my broom to make myself as aerodynamic as possible. The make-shift hoops were approaching quickly, and I shifted the deflated football from my side to a shooting position.

 _Slide chest and shoulder back…firm grip…twist at the side…hold the release…Dammit!_

I groaned in frustration as I watched my shot fly harmlessly wide of target.

"That was better Oliver! You managed to put a good amount of pace on that one." My father called up to me.

"But Dad, If I can't even put a shot on target with no goalkeeper how am I gonna to do it with one?" I yelled back.

"Steady son, it's just gonna take some practice is all."

I yelled out in frustration, and flew over to pick up the ball. This was the great paradox of my life at the time. I loved Quidditch more than anything, but I was absolutely terrible at playing it. I had a solid understanding of the game, but I wasn't exactly what you would call "coordinated" or "athletic" or "talented". I figured if I just worked hard enough I could be good enough.

It was the first weekend of the summer before my second year, and I told my parents that the only way I had a chance of making the Gryffindor team in the fall was weekly practice. My Mum and Dad had agreed to take me out to the countryside every Sunday afternoon as long as I kept up with my chores around the house. I'm pretty sure I would have agreed to mow the lawn of every house in our neighborhood if it meant I could practice Quidditch.

"Well bugger me then…" I swore as my next shot on goal crashed into the stem of the hoop and toppled it over.

"Oliver! You best watch your language sir!" My Mum shouted up at me.

"Yes Ma'am, sorry…" I said dejectedly.

Mum walked over from where she was sitting on the picnic blanket, and began to fix the hoop I had knocked over. Looking back I'm starting to think I underestimated how powerful of a witch my Mum was. When we first got to the clearing, she managed to transfigure three accurate-enough Quidditch hoops from just some sticks I gathered. I didn't realize it then, but that was an impressive bit of magic.

Once Mum was done fixing the hoop, I gathered up the old football that severed as a Quaffle, and climbed back in the air on my broom. The broom I was riding was the only genuine piece of equipment that I had. It was a late birthday present from my parents that I got the first day home from Hogwarts. They had hinted about it over winter break, but didn't want to give it to me then because I wouldn't be able to use it at Hogwarts. It was a slightly used Cleansweep Six, and even though it wasn't their latest model, the Six series was one of the most reliable for the better part of a decade. When I removed it from the wrapping a week earlier, the aroma of seasoned wood and polish filled my nostrils. The coloring was faded, but that just gave it an experienced look in my opinion. It was perfect. It took me a bit to get used to the more sensitive handling, and sharper acceleration. The school brooms I had practiced on in my first year were notorious for being complete shite.

 _Slide chest and shoulder back…firm grip…twist at the side…hold the release…YES!_

I let out a whooping celebration as I watched my latest attempt at goal sail through the middle hoop.

"Atta boy Oliver!" My Dad cried from below. "You looked like Aled bloody McArthur himself up there!"

"ROBERT. LANGUAGE." Mum yelled back at him.

The rest of the summer passed much too quickly, and I remember my confidence in making the team soaring or plummeting depending on the day. Mum and Dad stayed home from work the morning of September the first in order to give me a proper sending off. They cooked me a hearty farewell breakfast, but I couldn't eat a bite of it. I just stared at the meal in front of me, watching it slowly grow cold.

"Are you not hungry Oliver?" Mum asked me. I shook my head.

"What's wrong son?" Dad said. He moved across the kitchen table, knelt down and put his arm around me.

"I-I-I'm not good enough to make the team Da." I said.

"You've worked hard all summer Ollie."

"But I'm still not good enough!" I said, raising my voice.

"Then we'll practice even harder next summer, and we'll keep working until those boy would be mad not to have you on the team." His voice was gentle, but firm and I felt some of my anxiety slip away. "And more importantly," he began again. "No matter what happens, you'll still be my son, and your mother and I will always be proud of you."

I couldn't contain the bundle of emotions any longer, and tears began to run down my face. Both of my parents pulled me into a tight hug, and I felt the last bit of my worry slip away.

I boarded the Hogwarts Express a few hours later with my self-confidence restored. There was plenty of time before 11, so I was able to secure an unoccupied compartment. To pass the time I opened the latest issue of _Which Broomstick?_ and began flipping through it. I was halfway through an article about a newly designed Nimbus broom when a familiar face enter my compartment.

"May I join you Oliver?" said Percy. I put my magazine down and smiled up at him.

"Sure thing." Percy was the closest friend I had out of the boys in the dorm, and I'm pretty sure I was his closest friend altogether. Most of the others in Gryffindor were put off by his superior attitude, and obnoxious remarks, but I found that with just a bit of patience Percy was alright.

"Do anything exciting over the summer?" I asked him.

He shrugged, "Just a bit of reading really."

I smiled. For most people, a summer spent reading books would seem like a punishment, but I knew from living with him for a year that Percy would rather read about adventures than live them. "Well, I took it upon myself to practice Quidditch all summer just to make sure I'm ready for tryouts." I said.

"Good to hear, because you're certainly not going to get through life relying on your studies." He replied. His face was lacking the small grin that signals teasing, and was instead perfectly impassive. The third oldest Weasley child struggled with social cues and tact. He failed to realize that his forwardness was often considered offensive or rude, but I knew those remarks were never _too_ personal.

"Oi! I'll have you know that my marks were perfectly average last year!" I said.

"Perfectly average?" He replied. "That phrase doesn't make any sense at all."

"Yeah, things are either perfect, or they're not you right?" I said.

"Well I would certainly hope so." He replied. I held his blank expression for a few more moments before breaking out into laughter.

"I swear mate if you just learned to smile more you'd be the funniest wizard in all of Briton". I said.

Percy just looked confused.

Quidditch tryouts weren't until the second week of school, which meant I had a whole seven days to allow my anxiety to regrow and begin to consume me. I got called out more than once by my professors for poor attention in class, but despite their reproaches my mind was still full of doubt. To some degree what Percy said on the train had been true. I felt like if I didn't make the team I would lose all of my self-identity. Who was I if not a Quidditch player? That's what I wanted my whole life, and what if that dream got squashed before it ever took root? Looking back it was the silly existential crisis of a soon-to-be teenager, but in the moment the uncertainty blinded me to all reason.

On the day of the tryouts I arrived at the pitch early, and began warming up while waiting for the other players to arrive. The Gryffindor team wasted no time once everyone was present.

"On the line lads, and be quick about it!" Alec Colquhoun yelled. He was the seventh year keeper for the Gryffindor team, and while Charlie was the captain, Alec was the voice of authority for the tryouts. He had informed everyone that Charlie would be evaluating the lot of us from above. I glanced up and watched him swoop back and forth through the air like a feather falling off a bird.

"We're taking three laps 'round the pitch, and if you plan on making the team, best stay in front of me!" He moved in line with the rest of the twenty or so students who showed up for tryouts, and before I could properly mount my broom he yelled, "Go!"

The returning players were quickest off the start, but the others and I weren't too far behind. Fortunately, Colquhoun was a relatively slow flyer. He was a massive man with arms bigger than my whole body, and when he hovered in front of the hoops, he could almost cover an entire goal. We finished our laps, everyone heeded Alec's warning and stayed ahead of him. I ended up around the middle of the pack, and felt accomplished knowing I had beaten a few people.

"Well done boys, you've shown you're as talented as me eight year old sister." Nervous chuckles broke out from the crowd. "But now we're gonna move into the more technical stuff, partner up!"

We split into pairs, I joined a fifth year girl named Rosemary who I met last year. She was one of the few students from Gryffindor who gathered in the common room to listen to the professional Quidditch games on Saturday morning. Colquhoun began hovering past us, and continued his speech.

"Now as you know, we're looking for two chasers this year, so the majority of the drills today will focus on chaser play. The four reserves we'll pick will be decided based on drills we'll do later when we cover all of the positions, clear?" We all nodded and grunted in agreement. "Right, now let's see some passing." The returning players passed out Quaffles to the pairs. Some of the balls had seen better days, but they would move easier than the old football I had at home. "Right, start throwin'!"

Rosemary and I were competent enough at the passing drill, we listened attentively as Alec called out new instructions, or gave feedback.

"Easy Hopkinson it's not a race, work on the technique, and Bostock see how Jones catches the Quaffle with two hands together, try that and maybe you won't break your nose from a hard pass. Move around some lads! You gotta be able to catch and move in this game!"

After fifteen minutes or so, Colquhoun called an end to the drill, and brought us in to explain the next one. I noticed that Charlie was still hovering around high above us, silently watching. He seemed so detached from the rest of the team, but I suppose a seeker seems that way most of the time.

"We're now gonna move into a tackling and evading drill. Birch, take half of the crowd and get to the other side of the pitch." Julie Birch, the veteran chaser on the team, took off with half of the players and settled opposite of those of us that stayed put. Now two groups faced each other from opposite wide-sides of the pitch. "Now make two single file lines on the painted center line, face each other, and leave some space in between." We did as instructed. The veteran players handed Quaffles to me and the others in my line only. Once everyone got situated, Colquhoun began again, louder so both groups could hear him.

"Here's now this game works. The players in the line with the Quaffles have to get past the players in the line without Quaffles in a one versus one contest. If the Quaffle player does so, they win, if they lose the Quaffle or take longer than ten seconds to get past the other player, they lose. It's that simple."

I felt my stomach clench up. I definitely wanted to be a chaser, but I was a small second year, and was certain I'd get clobbered by someone bigger than me. Still, Quidditch is an aggressive sport, and I told myself I'd have to get used to it.

"We want to see one of two things from our players with the Quaffle." Alec continued. "We want to see either convincing body feints and quick acceleration out of the fake, or…" He paused for a minute and grinned, "We want to see you drop your shoulder and blow past someone, and if you can do both, don't be shy, impress me." He paused again to catch his breath before addressing the other line. "And for our defending chasers, we want to see two things as well. We want to see clean tackles which means no blows to the head or back, no wrapping up players with your arms, and no purposely lifting players off broom, we don't play for Slytherin." There were murmurs of agreement in the crowd. The Slytherin team was notorious for ignoring the contact rules in Quidditch. "A clean tackle means you get alongside a player, and use your shoulders and hips to knock them off balance. Then you use your free hand to knock the Quaffle away, always punish players who have poor Quaffle-security."

I knew all this from the years I spent watching Quidditch, and the lack of activity was doing little to calm my growing nerves. Colquhoun wasn't done lecturing yet though.

"And one more thing. Gentlemen, if I see any of you go soft against your female teammates, I will personally kick your arse off this pitch. The ladies on the house teams are more than capable of beating the piss out of all of you lads, so leave that chivalry shite at home. When you step on this pitch you're a Quidditch player, no gender attached." He flew up high to give us some room to start "First two player, ready on my mark! Remember to switch lines after you go, and for God's sake stay low to the ground, don't need to send someone to the Hospital Wing again."

I was four behind the front player, but I still felt nervous in the silence before Alec let us begin.

"Off you go!" He yelled at last.

My overall performance in this drill was quite abysmal, though I did achieve some success in feinting past players. Stopping players was an entirely different story. I was next up in the defending line, and saw that my opponent was the veteran Birch.

"Go!" Yelled Colquhoun.

I bolted out to meet Julie, and managed to get alongside her as she began to move past me.

"Put your body on her Wood! You're just escorting her, use your hips!" Colquhoun instructed. I attempted to check her, but she pushed me off with a clean stiff arm and sailed past me. I felt my face go red with embarrassment.

"No worries Wood, just get it next time!"

I wasn't able to stop a single player, but I was encouraged to see I wasn't the only one with that problem.

"Tackling takes practice lads, you'll get there." Said Alec after we finished the drill. "For now let's move into everyone's favorite drill." He continued with a grin. "Shooting practice."


	4. Chapter 4

The tackling and evading drill had completely drained our group of energy. I didn't know then, but ten minutes of continuous physical contact at bone-crushing speeds will burn off more of your stamina than a dozen laps around a pitch. We were a grimy mass of bodies that smelled like a room filled with old, damp towels. Most of us had noticeable bruises on our arms, and a plethora of additional minor injuries hidden by our sweat-soaked clothing. A few players had blood smeared on their faces or shirts from broken noses and deep scratches. This was the reality of competitive Quidditch, and I was loving every second.

Colquhoun had mercifully granted us a ten minute rest after seeing how exhausted we were. When he announced we would be moving into a shoot drill, I became excited and nervous almost simultaneously. On the one hand I practiced shooting frequently over the summer, and I was confident I could stand out, but I wasn't sure if I could even lift my arms after the strain of the last drill. Fortunately it seemed like the majority of the players shared my muscular difficulties, and when Alec called everyone to gather around the hoops, there was a collective groan.

"I hope you're not too tired lads, because we've got a lot more work to do today." Said Colquhoun. "Though, if you're not currently exhausted then that means you didn't work hard enough earlier." He followed his paradoxical comment with a laugh. No one joined in. We were too tired.

"Right so here's how this'll work. I'm gonna be in front of the hoops, you lot make two single file lines facing the goals. One at a time you'll head towards me, receive a pass from one of the veteran players, and have a shot." He explained. "Make sure you're switching lines when you finish one side, so we can see you shoot from the right and left. Oh, and occasionally switch throwing from your dominant hand, in a Quidditch game we don't always get to shoot with our preferred arm." Alec paused to make sure everyone understood the instructions. "Simple enough? Then let's get to it, line up!"

The first dozen or so players to challenge Alec were woefully unimpressive. Most of the shots weren't even on target, and the ones that were hardly threatened the experienced keeper.

"Come on now! If you can't put the Quaffle on target with no pressure, how the bloody hell do you think you'll do it with chasers and beaters breathing down your neck?" Colquhoun yelled.

Soon it was my turn and I began accelerating out of the right line. Erick Carr, one of the team's veteran beaters, threw me a pass as I moved closer to the hoops. I caught the Quaffle, and immediately shifted it to a shooting position. My eyes glanced up and decided on the right goal, because the center and left ones looked too well defended by Alec. I only had a few more seconds to fire off a shot.

 _Slide chest and shoulder back…firm grip…twist at the side…hold the release…_

At first it looked like my attempt at goal would sail in, but Colquhoun stretched his left arm out and lazily swatted my shot away.

"You were ogling that right hoop like it was a piece of chocolate cake Wood! He reprimanded. "I could tell where you were shooting the moment you lifted your head, at least _try_ and use some trickery."

I moved to the back of the left line, discouraged and solemn. I was certain I'd fail to make the team, and almost flew off the pitch to save myself further embarrassment.

"Try a pump-fake on your next go through." Said a quiet voice behind me. I turned around and saw that none other than Charlie Weasley was looking me right in the eyes. I had completely forgotten he was still watching us from above. He must have slipped down unnoticed after my first attempt at the drill.

"W-W-What?" I stammered.

"Try a pump-fake, you know, the thing where you fake one way and shoot another, Alec struggles with those ones." Said Charlie. I was completely baffled as to why he had decided to offer me this advice.

"T-T-Thanks." I managed to get out. He gave me a brief nod, and silently ascended back into the sky.

I was still in a state of shock when it became my turn to shoot again. Despite being star-struck, I wanted to show Charlie that I understood what he had told me, and focused on the move I was about to perform. The key to a good pump-fake is to really exaggerate the false shooting motion which will almost always cause Goalkeepers to react. I began my move with my eyes fixed on the left hoop, hopefully Colquhoun would read my face just like last time. I caught the pass, this time from Birch, and shifted the Quaffle to a shooting position. I cocked my arm back like a slingshot, and after a beat I began my throwing motion. I could see Colquhoun already moving to block my shot; my eyes and open body language gave no illusion as to where I was aiming. I brought the Quaffle all the way across my body, but never released the ball allowing my arm to lower to chest level. Then, as fast as possible, I pushed my arm and the Quaffle out like a shot put towards the right hoop. My throw didn't have very much power, but it didn't need to because Alec had completely bought the fake. I watched as my shot flew gracefully through the right hop, Colquhoun had no chance to recover. I let out a whoop of celebration, and pumped my fists into the air. Alec turned, and gave me a grin.

"Not bad Wood, not bad at all." He said.

When I got back in line I glanced up and saw the shadowy outline of Charlie. I remember hoping that he was smiling.

We finished the shooting drill after everyone got a chance to run through it several times. Colquhoun informed us that we would be covering the remaining positions next. I ended up getting hit by Bludgers more often than I hit them during the Beater drill, and I wasn't much better at seeking either, much to my disappointment. I was hoping to have talent enough at that position to impress Charlie, but after failing to catch a single Snitch I doubted I did so. I managed to make a couple of saves during the Goalkeeper drill, but I was so tired I couldn't really get my hands out to make blocks. After completing the last of the drills, Alec told us to take a few more laps around the pitch at a slow speed to cool down.

The flying gave me a chance to reflect on my overall performance during the tryouts. There were definitely moments when I had impressed, but I felt like there were more where I had not. They certainly weren't going to bring me on as a Beater or a Seeker. I thought back to the Goalkeeper drill. I hadn't been too bad, better than most actually, and I couldn't help but think if I had more energy how many saves I could have made. But I didn't really want to play Goalkeeper. They were players who could go from being loved or hated in a matter of seconds, and at the time I didn't believe I had the nerve for that kind of pressure. I landed after completing my laps, and continued to reflect back on my tryout display.

It was close to noon when Colquhoun announced that he and Charlie would deliberate on what they saw, and announce who would make up the 1988-1989 team. My anxiety rose to an all-time high. The two of them probably only talked for fifteen minutes or so, but at the time it seemed like an eternity. When they eventually flew down to meet with the players, I had to swallow the vomit that had pushed up into my mouth. I was surprised to see Charlie stepped forward to speak to us as a group for the first time.

"Thank you all for coming out and working hard today." He said. "I do apologize for my distance, but I feel I can see more from up high than on the group, and Alec here loves yelling at you too much to let me take over." He gave his friend a cheeky grin, and we laughed. After a pause, Charlie began again. "If it were up to me, I'd put you all on the Gryffindor team, because you've earned that today." He sounded like some kind of hero from an ancient story, or a general addressing his troops before battle. "But the rules are that we can only have eleven Quidditch players on our team, seven active and four reserves. So we've had to choose, and believe me lads, it was not easy." He paused again, and seemed to be collecting himself. "I won't torture you any longer, so I'm just gonna call your names now."

My stomach was a queasy mess, and the adrenaline made me hardly notice my aching muscles.

"Active team is; myself, Colquhoun, Birch, Carr, Hayes, Weber, and Poole."

A wave of disappointment rushed over me, but I knew it was a longshot to make the active team as a first year. I was more confident I would get called for the reserves, that way I'd get the chance to practice daily and one day become ready to represent my house. I looked over and saw Rosemary Hayes grinning like a clown. I was happy for her, she was a true Quidditch fan and certainly deserved the opportunity to play.

"Reserve team is…" I held my breath and bit down hard on my lip. "Porter, Moss, Dawson, and Gilliam."

I felt physical pain when I didn't hear my name called, the aguish was so intense that I nearly missed Charlie's last words.

"For those of you who didn't make the team, please try again next year, Gryffindor will need all of you soon."

The agony was too much, and I felt tears begin to fall down my face. My nausea and anxiety were gone, replaced by crushing depression and bitter self-hatred. As I walked off the pitch I remember one thought surfacing again and again in my head.

You failed Oliver Wood.


	5. Chapter 5

"Oliver…I-I'm so sorry." Said Rosemary. We were sitting next to the wireless in the Gryffindor common room. It was our usual spot on Saturday mornings.

"I know you must be feeling absolutely devastated but…" She trailed off. "But you can't give up okay? I'll work with you when I'm not practicing, and you can keep working over the summer, and then you'll make the team for sure." She said.

"What's the point?" I said. "I'm never going to be good enough."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "I know it must seem hopeless now, but you've still got plenty of time to improve." She paused. "It took me three tries before gettin' on now."

"Congratulations by the way." I said. "Think I forgot to tell you that on the pitch."

"Yeah you were too busy beating yourself up, which by the way." She pointed a finger at me, "I will only tolerate that for today, because I swear, if I hear you moaning and groaning during the Harpies game tomorrow I'll go listen to it with the Slytherins." She said.

"You won't."

"Wanna bet Wood?"

"Not really." I said dejectedly.

We stayed quiet for a few moments, the wireless mimicking our silence before Rosemary began again.

"You know, there are plenty of world class Quidditch players who didn't get picked at their first tryout."

"Charlie Weasley made the team as a second year." I said.

"Ahhh, and there is the heart of the matter." Said Rosemary. "Your standard of a proper Quidditch player, is Charlie bloody Weasley."

"Well he's the best isn't he?" I said.

"Weasley could skip every practice in his Hogwarts career, and still probably get drafted early." Said Rosemary. "The lucky bastard was born with most of his talent, that's why he made the team as a second year."

"So you're saying I have no talent then?" I shot back. I was angry now, but at least it was something different than sadness.

Rosemary laughed, "Kid, compared to Charlie, we're all talentless." I glared at her for a few seconds before letting go of the building rage with a heavy sigh.

"You're real great at this cheering up stuff you know that?" I said.

She laughed again and patted me on the back.

In truth, I desperately needed that talk with Rosemary. She found me in the common room after a brief, post-tryout meeting. I was a little surprised she still wanted to talk to me after boosting her popularity status by making the team. The love of Quidditch has a way of bringing people together though, even the most different people. I would be lying if I denied having a crush on her then. How could I not? She was radiant, with long dark hair, a face full of freckles, and a toned body from her active life. She was a wonderful fantasy for twelve year old me, but I knew our age difference meant we'd probably never date. Still, a boy could dream. Rosemary was an incredible friend though, I loved talking Quidditch with her, and that day in my second year, she showed me empathy that you only get from a few people in your life. My dorm mates and hers thought it was strange we were friends, but it never really bother the two of us.

"Hey I think we could still catch the afternoon game if you'd like." Rosemary said. "But I'd understand if listening to Quidditch is too painful right now." She said gently.

"No it's fine." I replied. "I wanna know if the Magpies are any good without Hart."

Rosemary scoffed, "Well I could answer that one without even turning on the broadcast."

"Their other players aren't _that_ pathetic." I said, "After all their playing the Wasps for fucks sake."

"You remember Wimbourne won their last game yeah? Looked pretty good too."

"They beat the Cannons." I said, throwing my hands up dramatically. "Does that even count as an official win anymore?"

Rosemary stuck her tongue out at me, and I returned the gesture. It actually felt good talking about Quidditch, it made today seem like just another day, and when the broadcast came on, my pain temporarily evaporated.

I begrudgingly left the common room later that evening for dinner much do to Rosemary's insistence. Despite her company I didn't feel ready to be around others and face the inevitable questions about tryouts. When we reached the entrance of the Great Hall, I stopped and turned to her.

"You go on in. I wanna walk around for a bit, stretch my legs, and clear my head." I said.

"Fine, but if I don't see you in there soon-"

"I know, I know, you'll ring my neck, got it."

She smiled and gave me a quick hug. The embrace was comforting, but made me feel small; Rosemary was a solid foot taller than me.

"It's going to be alright." She said and walked into the Great Hall, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

I didn't spend much time strolling through the castle, and honestly it was difficult to even concentrate on any one particular thought. Did I not get picked because of something they saw me do? Or was it because the ones they did pick stood out more? I kept rattling of questions in my head, but struggled to come up with any answers. It seemed to be easier to list off "What if" and "I should have" statements than to reach any kind of acceptance. When it became apparent that I could no longer avoid what was coming, I made my way back, and pushed open the two huge doors of the Great Hall.

I was thankful that nobody seemed to notice me enter, most people were too preoccupied with their food. As I made my way over to the Gryffindor table I saw the other second year students glance up and give me sympathetic looks. It appeared I wouldn't have to answer any questions which made me feel better. The thought of acknowledging my failure out loud made my stomach turn. As I got closer to my friends I heard a voice laced with sarcasm call out to me.

"Well if it isn't the youngest new member of the Gryffindor team lads!" The comment made me freeze right in front of the long-table.

"Oh wait! That's right, you didn't make it did ya Wood? Guess all that talking you do bout Quidditch doesn't count for shite!" A group of boys further up the table began laughing. The voice belonged to Philip Raine, a nasty third year who was known to pick on students younger than him. Normally his asinine comments never made an impact on me, but today was different. The wounds I thought I sealed from earlier reopened, and I felt tears start to form in my eyes.

"But don't worry! Maybe if you ask real nice, they'll let you wash their jerseys after games!" He said. I clenched my fists, but stayed frozen at my spot, I could think of no words to fire back at him.

"Oi! Shut your trap Raine! Didn't see your scrawny arse out on the pitch, probably because you don't even know how to mount a broom." Said Rosemary. Her group of friends and most of the other Gryffindors laughed. I appreciated her defending me, but I was embarrassed I hadn't done it myself.

I saw Percy sitting by himself at the end of the table, and decided to join him. I sat down silently, and began eating the boiled potatoes on my plate. Percy cleared his throat several times, and appeared to be trying desperately to find the right words to say.

"It…" He began. "It…must have been…hard uh…today…and uh…I'm sorry."

I couldn't help the smile that formed on my lips as I watched my friend struggle to find the right words. "Wow Percy, that's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me." I said playfully.

He nodded, and returned to his bowl of hot beef stew. "You know, I could try and talk to Charlie later and see if…well…" Said Percy.

"That's okay mate, but I wanna be on the team because I deserve to be there, ya know?" I said.

"Oh! Of course, of course." He said quickly. We both paused to take bites of our meals.

"But thank you Percy." I said. He nodded again.

We both sat in comfortable silence for a few moments enjoying our food and each other's company.

"So." I said, trying to restart conversation, "What have you been up to today?"

"Not much, been in the library most of the day working on that Transfiguration essay."

I laughed. "The term has just started and you're already more studious than the rest of us put together." I said.

"Well you got up 'round six in the morning for tryouts today, which was probably earlier than everyone else."

I looked at him quizzically, "What ya mean by that?"

"Well." He began, "I put most of my time into studying, because I think it's important, you put most of yours into Quidditch because that's what you think is important."

"So you're saying studying is like Quidditch then?" I said.

"Essentially."

"Nonsense."

"Is it so difficult to admit we're both just passionate people?" He asked.

I laughed, "Yeah I suppose you're kinda right." Then the intrusive depressing thoughts came back. "But you're actually good at what you're passionate about."

"Well, you've just got to practice then." He said matter-of-factly.

"I suppose so." I said with no conviction. Percy hadn't picked up on my sudden change of mood, but I hadn't expected him to.

"You plan on trying out again next year?" He asked.

"Think so."

"Good." More silence followed.

"Gonna be hard to watch the team play this year though." I said after a few minutes.

"Well, you're more than welcome to join me instead." He said. "The library is very peaceful on game days."

I grinned, and let out a short, honest laugh.

Percy looked confused, "I wasn't joking."

"I know mate, I know."

The games did end up being difficult to watch, but I went to them all. I think I would have hated myself more if I hadn't shown up and supported Rosemary. Gryffindor played their first game in November and were brutally crushed by Ravenclaw 250-40. The Claw's Beaters had been so effective at neutralizing Charlie, that he never had a chance at the Snitch. There was a small part of me that was happy they lost, because it allowed me to entertain the delusion that if I was on the team I'd have made a difference. The rational side of me knew Gryffindor still had a fairly young team, and that having me there would have just made it worse.

I went home that year for Christmas, and found my parents were as loving and understanding as they'd been when I left in September. My dad told me we could practice together over the summer when he wasn't working, and my mum patiently talked me through all of my depression and feelings of worthlessness. The time spent with both of them, and the few letters from Rosemary finally helped me move past the worst of my negative feelings about not making the team.

Gryffindor's second game of the year was set for February against Slytherin, and I was worried it was going to be another blow out. The day before the game, I was sitting around the fireplace in the common room with a few others when I decided to bring up my concerns.

"I gotta be honest lads, not feelin' confident 'bout tomorrow." I said.

"Charlie and Alec have been preparing us for weeks, so it's not gonna be a repeat of last time." Said Rosemary.

"Yeah but the Slytherin team is huge, and very physical and we don't have a counter for that, not with the way our Beaters preformed last game."

Rosemary glared. "Erick and Bryan are two of our most experienced players, and they're more than capable of giving good performances."

I scoffed, "They couldn't even give Charlie an opening to make a pass at the Snitch, so how the hell are they gonna protect our chaser line?"

Rosemary clenched her hands into fists, and growled, "We're going to maintain Bludger control and-"

"But Slytherin's Beaters are so quick!" Said Tyler Harper. He was another member of our small group who listened to the broadcasts on the weekends. "How do ya control the Bludgers if the other team's Beaters get into position faster?"

"Oi!" Cried Rosemary. "I've had enough of this nonsense! I'm going to bed." She stood quickly and hurried up the stairs of the girl's dormitory.

A wave of guilt washed over me, "Was just trying to help." I said.

"We might have come on too strong." Said Tyler.

"No kidding."

I caught up to Rosemary the next morning in the Great Hall right before she left with the rest of the team. I walked up to her and tried to piece together an apology in my head.

"Listen, I just wanted to say-"

"That you're an arrogant twat who needs to learn when to fuck off?" She said. Her tone was anything but playful.

"What? No! Well yes. Kind of. I don't know." I wasn't expecting her to still be so hostile. "Are you seriously still mad about the other night? Look it wasn't anything personal-"

"Well you know what Oliver, why don't you leave the criticism to the people who were actually good enough to make the team." She said.

I felt my stomach drop, and all of the feelings I spent so long trying to resolve rushed back with a bitter vengeance. I could tell by her shocked facial expression that she immediately regretted those words, but the damage was done.

"Oliver I-"

"Hayes! Get over here, we gotta get to the pitch!" Yelled Colquhoun.

She turned to the entrance of the Great Hall, and then back to me, "I-"

"Good luck with the game." I said, and walked back over to my table. When I sat down I turned back. She was gone.

"Well that looked like it went real well." Said one of my dorm mates sarcastically.

"Shut up Ben." I said, but my voice lacked any conviction.

I made my way down to the Quidditch pitch about an hour later. Rosemary's words were still ringing in my ears. I knew she hadn't meant them, but there was still some truth to them. Who was I to question Quidditch tactics I couldn't even execute? I sat down with Tyler and Alfie, another one from our group, and tried to focus on the players warming up. Anytime I glanced at Rosemary I flinched and felt an intense amount of sorrow and guilt.

"I'm guessing the apology didn't go so well then?" Said Tyler.

"What gave it away?" I replied.

"Well, you look like a Dementor been followin' ya." Said Alfie. His squeaky, high pitch voice carried well over the noise of the growing crowd.

"Was she just angry or-"

"Look Tyler, I don't wanna talk bout it okay?" I said.

"Yeah…no worries mate." He clapped me on the back a few times, and we returned our attention back to the players warming up.

The atmosphere was exhilarating. The stands were packed with just about every student at Hogwarts, and others who had come to see the game. Gryffindor vs Slytherin always drew large crowds. I took a moment to look around the make-shift stadium. I always loved how the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch had an open and natural kind of feel to it. Most professional Quidditch stadiums are huge, and have an intimidating aura to them, but Hogwarts' just felt right.

The red and green colors flying around the pitch, and waving throughout the stands made it feel like Christmas again. The cold weather helped with the illusion as well. A gust of icy wind pieced my many layers of clothing and chilled my whole body. I furiously rubbed my hands together in an attempt to warm up, and eagerly awaited the start of the game. I wasn't disappointed as soon after Madam Hooch brought the two teams into position, and a bright female voice echoed throughout the stands.

 _"_ _Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to our match today, Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"_

Cheers erupted all over and Lynn Lambert, Hogwarts' official match commentator, waited patiently to resume speaking.

" _Now let's meet the teams! Starting with Slytherin attacking from my left to right."_

A simultaneous chorus of cheers and boos was heard from the crowd.

 _"_ _Starting between the hoops for Slytherin is Kent Blackwood! Their Beaters, Missy Stanford and Elmer Lindsey! Chasers are, Arledge Webley, Kim Digby, and Marcus Flint!"_

"Nasty looking fucker that one is." Said Alfie.

"He plays dirty too." I said. "Nearly decapitated one of Hufflepuff's Chasers last game."

"I'd still be more concerned with those Beaters though, they're carrying those bats like they're toothpicks." Said Tyler.

 _"_ _And their Seeker, Lee Kendal!"_ Finished Lynn.

 _"_ _And now for Gryffindor attacking from my right to left."_

I let out a cheer with the rest of my house.

" _Between the hoops, Alec Colquhoun! Their Beater, Erick Carr and Bryan Poole! Chasers are Julie Birch, Dominick Weber, and Rosemary Hayes!"_

I continued to cheer, but when Rosemary's name was called, I felt a stab of pain in my stomach.

 _"_ _And now, introducing the Gryffindor Seeker, the one and only, Charlie Weasley!"_

The crowd went nuts as Charlie flew by, and not just Gryffindors were cheering. The section below me started to chant.

" _Charlie! Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!"_ I joined in, and soon every Gryffindor had too.

" _Weasley and Lindsey fly out to shake hands and get some last minute instructions from Madam Hooch…They move back to their respect teams, and there's the whistle folks! Game on!"_ Said Lynn.

The red and green colors blurred together as fourteen players battled for positioning and control of the four different balls.

 _"_ _Webley has the Quaffle now, and is advancing towards the Gryffindor hoops. He pushes it to Digby-but no! It's intercepted by Birch!_

"Good read Julie!" I yelled.

" _Birch is pushing out from the Gryffindor backfield. She's got Hayes on the flank in support and-WHOA! Savage hit from the Slytherin Chaser Marcus Flint, he nearly knocked her off broom!"_

Loud objections arose from the Gryffindor stand, and applause was given when Madam Hooch awarded a penalty.

"You're right, that one likes to play rough." Said Tyler.

"He's trying to throw our Chasers off rhythm with a few hard hits in the first fifteen minutes. My guess is he's also Slytherins counter-attack defender, so he's probably gonna hit us every time we try and break." I said.

"Hafta spread the Quaffle 'round quick to avoid him." Said Alfie.

Birch flew up and easily put her penalty shot past Blackwood. We all cheered as Gryffindor took the lead.

Gryffindor looked much improved from their last performance against Ravenclaw, but the Slytherin Chasers and Beaters were clearly the more dominant force. After a half hour the score was 90-30 in Slytherin's favor.

"If we can just keep it close Charlie will win this for us, no doubt!" Said Alfie.

I nodded in agreement, "He's certainly a better flyer than Kendal, but Slytherin knows that. Stanford and Lindsey have been sending Bludgers his way the whole game." I said.

"Yeah, and we're not gonna be in Snitch range for much longer." Said Tyler. Just as he finished speaking, Slytherin scored to make it 100-30. There was a uniform groan as we watched Colquhoun start us up again.

 _"_ _Hayes with the Quaffle now, Gryffindor are moving out quickly in Hawkshead Formation! Looks like they're trying to make a push on goal before Slytherin has time to get set."_

"Come on…Come on…" I pleaded.

 _"_ _Hayes pushes it forward to Birch who slides it back to Weber. Looks like he's going for the shot-no! Dominick Weber passes it off to Hayes who made a fantastic overlap, and she puts it past Blackwood for ten Gryffindor points!"_

The Gryffindor stand burst into cheers, reenergized by the aggressive attack from our team.

" _Great play from the Gryffindor chasers that was certainly something they practiced this week."_ Said Lynn. _"But Slytherin are making an attack run of their own now, and are clearly not happy they let that last shot go in. Flint with the Quaffle now. He trucks Birch and pushes her out of the way, gets his arm up to shoot-ouch! He takes a massive Bludger hit curtesy of Bryan Poole, and the Quaffle is loose!"_

There was a mad dash right in front of the Gryffindor hoops for the Quaffle, and Rosemary managed to come out on top with it.

 _"_ _Hayes with the Quaffle now! The Slytherin Chasers are way out of position, and Hayes is home free on goal!"_

"Come on…You got this Rosemary…" I said.

 _"_ _Slytherin are going to have to do something dramatic here to prevent her from scoring and-OH MY! The Slytherin Beaters pull off a Dopplebeater Defense and both slam their Bludger right into Hayes's arm!"_

There were gasps of pain and fear as we watched Rosemary get hit by the forceful Bludger. The Dopplebeater Defense is difficult to pull off, because both Beaters have to make contact with the Bludger at the same time and at similar angles. Do it right though, and the Bludger will fly twice as fast making it almost impossible to dodge.

 _"_ _Hayes manages to hold onto the Quaffle, but she's at a dead stop. She needs her other Chasers to support her but-MY WORD! Marcus Flint just slammed into Hayes at full speed from the back! Surely that's a penalty!"_

I watched in horror as Rosemary took the full impact of the blow and lurched forward on her broom. At first it seemed like she was fine, but then she fell.

 _"_ _Rosemary Hayes has just fallen off her broom! It's unclear if she's conscious or not! Somebody catch her!"_

None of the players were close enough to grab her before she hit the ground, but that didn't stop the Gryffindor players from trying. Several of the professors in attendance managed to cast slowing and cushioning spells, but they weren't quick enough to stop her completely. Rosemary hit the ground with a sickening thud. The whole stadium gasped in horror.

She didn't get up.


	6. Chapter 6

The whole stadium was in stunned silence as we stared at Rosemary's unmoving body. The shock wore off though, and screams were soon heard throughout the stands. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The paralyzing horror of what I had just witnessed kept me from having any kind of reaction. Angry shouts could now be heard clearly from the Gryffindor students, and some of the players were locked in an aerial fist fight. Alec had flown right up to Marcus Flint, and had proceeded to break his nose with a series of vicious jabs. The rest of the Slytherin team jumped to Flint's defense, and Weber, Carr, and Poole came to Alec's. Charlie and Julie were on the ground next to Rosemary. Madam Hooch had bravely thrown herself in the middle of the brawling players, and was ordering the two teams to separate. I looked back to the ground and saw that Madam Pomfrey, and several of the school's professors had rushed down to the pitch.

"Is…Is she okay?" Said Alfie. His voice was filled with terror, and he was forcefully pushing his shaggy hair back with both hands.

"I don't know." Said Tyler quietly.

Madam Pomfrey had gently moved Rosemary onto a stretcher, and began levitating her off the pitch. She still wasn't moving, and overwhelming fear gripped me.

"S-s-s-she looks…s-s-she looks…" I stammered.

Tyler put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed firmly, "She's not dead Oliver, just knocked out, and Pomfrey is gonna fix her up right."

"H-h-how ya k-know?" I said.

"I just do okay?"

His words did little to resolve my growing fear.

In the air, Madam Hooch had managed to separate the players, and announced that the game would be paused to let everyone cool off, and to wait for news about Rosemary. The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams flew off to their respect locker rooms, and soon everything was quiet again.

My fear was quickly turning to panic, and I kept seeing Rosemary fall over and over in my head.

"T-t-the last t-t-time we talked w-w-was so awful. What if…what if…" I said.

"Hey now, enough of that." Said Tyler. "You'll get the chance to make it right, just you wait."

In that moment, Tyler's maturity made him stand out from Alfie and me. He was only two years older than us, but always seemed to be so calm and put together, no matter the situation.

We sat there in silence for what felt like hours. The anticipation of bad news kept me from focusing on anything else, and by the time Lynn's voice came back on my nerves were shot.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been informed that Rosemary Hayes's injuries are not too severe and that she is going to be alright."_

An audible sigh of relief was heard from the crowd, and I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

" _The match will resume momentarily."_

The players flew back onto the pitch. Flint and Colquhoun had been ejected from the game. Flint for the hit on Rosemary, and Alec for starting the fight. Gryffindor was forced to play their back up Goalkeeper and Chaser, who both looked terrified to be on the pitch. The game only lasted for another forty minutes or so. After losing Rosemary and Alec the Gryffindor team lost all of its spirit, and Charlie grabbed the Snitch when Slytherin went up by 200 points.

Tyler, Alfie, and I walked over to the Hospital Wing after the game with the rest of the Gryffindor team, but Madam Pomfrey met us at the entrance, and said that we couldn't see Rosemary until tomorrow. The whole common room was silent that evening, whether it was from the loss or Rosemary's fall, nobody was in a lively mood. Our group decided we would go visit her tomorrow afternoon after the team had a chance to see her. It was impossible to sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes I either saw Rosemary falling, or the fight we had before she left for the game.

The next morning I skipped breakfast, and stayed in bed. I lacked any kind of motivation to get out and move around, but managed to drag myself to the shower a few hours later. The steamy water helped soothe me, and it was just about time to meet up with the group when I finished washing.

Alfie and Tyler were already down stairs when I entered the common room. Rebecca Lewis joined us soon after. She was a third year, and the final member of our little Quidditch group.

"All right Becs?" Said Tyler.

"Fine thanks." She said. Her voice was quiet and it looked like she'd been crying the previous night.

"Right. You lot ready?" Said Tyler.

We nodded in agreement, and starting walking towards the portrait hole. I turned back for a second, and noticed the wireless sitting in the corner unused.

"Hang on." I said. "I've got an idea.

We made it to the Hospital Wing a few minutes later, and gathered by the entranced. Everyone exchanged nervous glances before Tyler pushed the doors open. Rosemary looked surprisingly well off for somebody who fell out of the sky the other day. She was sitting up, and eating soup with her left hand, as her right was in a sling. When we got closer she smiled and waved us over. Becs got to her first and gave her a gentle hug, and the rest of us gathered around the bed. When she made eye contact with me her eyes softened.

"Oliver I'm so sorry." She said.

"It's alright you don't hafta-"

"No I mean it. What I said to you the other day was wrong and untrue." She reached out and grabbed my arm, "You know more about Quidditch than anyone else I've ever met, and when you make the team next year, we're gonna win every bloody game."

"I'm just glad you're okay." I whimpered, and didn't stop myself from crying. Rosemary pulled me into a tight side hug, and I felt tears on her face as well.

"God now look at what you've done Wood, got me all emotional." She said.

"You started it ya twat." I countered.

We laughed and enjoyed being in each other's company for a few moments.

"So what's the damage?" Said Tyler after a bit.

"Concussion, broken arm, and a couple cracked vertebra." Said Rosemary. "Nothing a bit of magic can't patch up, but Poppy is gonna keep me in bed for a few days just in case."

"Well that's not so bad considering that fall ya took." Said Alfie.

"Yeah, must have looked like a sack of potatoes on the way down." Said Rosemary. "I lost consciousness as soon as Flint hit me."

Becs frowned at the mention of Flint's name. "That boy needs to be banned permanently." She said. "He's a real danger on that pitch."

"No doubt." I agreed.

We chatted for a bit longer about the game before Rosemary let out an exasperated sigh.

"I just don't wanna be stuck in this bed any longer, I'm already bored half to death!" She said.

"Well no that was probably from the fall." Said Alfie. This earned him a smack on the shoulder from Becs.

"Well I brought something that might help." I said, and pulled out the wireless I carried from the common room. "I reckon we're just in time for the afternoon game if you wanna listen in?"

"Oliver Wood I could kiss you right now!" Said Rosemary.

I think my face stayed red for the whole match.

Rosemary was out of the Hospital Wing a few days later, and rejoined the team for practice a week after that. There was no chance for Gryffindor to win the Cup this year, but the leadership on the team was adamant about not going 0-3 for the season. The players stumbled into the common room after each practice looking exhausted. The match against Hufflepuff wasn't until May, so it looked like it was going to be an exhausting two months of preparation for them. A couple times a week I would sit in the stands and watch them practice. Colquhoun carried the authoritative role he took on during tryouts into the team practices, but Charlie worked well as a silent leader. He would make slight adjustments to plays here and there, and would constantly pull players off from the active and reserve team to talk one on one. I was fascinated by how efficiently the team was run, because not a second was wasted when the players got to work. Charlie and Alec commanded a level of respect, and nobody out on the pitch wanted to disappoint them.

Final exams were fast approaching as well, and Percy had managed to convince me to spend some time studying with him in the Library.

"So what are some of the practical uses of the charm _Arresto Momentum_?" He said.

"Err…What's that one do again?" I said.

Percy rolled his eyes at me, "Honestly Oliver, I picked it because it's often used in Quidditch."

"Really?"

He nodded, "The charm was invented in 1711 as a way to prevent the Quaffle from dropping too low if it became loose. It's also helpful for slowing down players who are knocked off broom."

"Oh yeah, saw some of the professors cast something like that when Rosemary fell." I said, "Sounds like a good one to know."

"Indeed." Said Percy.

I felt embarrassed at my lack of knowledge compared to Percy. It wasn't that I was a bad student, but all of the lectures and the reading never captured my attention. Sitting in a room talking about magic was just dull to me.

"How about the basic unlocking charm we learned last week?" Said Percy, "Do you remember the incantation for that one?"

"Oh! Yeah I do!" I said with excitement, " _Alohomora."_

"Very good, there's still hope for you yet."

The following months passed in a blur. Gryffindor won its game against Hufflepuff, and managed to avoid at fourth place finish in the Cup. With Percy's help I actually passed my exams with higher scores than many of my professors anticipated. We had one weekend left at Hogwarts before summer, and I desperately wanted to return home to practice Quidditch.

"Hey Wood." Said Alfie, "Rosemary is down stairs looking for ya." I was in the dormitory packing my truck.

"She say why?"

"Nah just go down mate."

I made my way to the common room and saw Rosemary, the Quidditch team, and few other Gryffindors had gathered in a group.

"There ya are Wood." Said Colquhoun, "We're about to play a scrimmage for fun before the term ends, you want in?"

My heart stopped for a moment, and I forgot how to breathe.

"You alright Oliver?" Said Rosemary.

"Y-yeah…Let me just get my broom." I said.

My mind was racing the entire trip from the common room to the pitch. It might have just been a casual match for the team, but for me this was the final opportunity of the year to impress. The fact that they had specifically requested I join them could have meant several things. One, it could have meant I was close to being selected for the team during tryouts, and made it onto an unwritten watch list. Two, Rosemary had vouched for me, or three, they just needed a random person and I fit the bill.

"Can you play Keep for us Wood?" Said Birch.

I was so distracted with my thoughts that I zoned out from the entire walk to the pitch and the team picking process.

"W-what?" I said with bemusement.

"Can you play Goalkeeper? Ya know, the bloke who sits in front of the hoops." She said with a bit of sass.

"O-oh..uh…yeah sure!" I finished awkwardly. The other players on my team laughed.

I was dismayed with my assigned position. I had hoped to ask to play Chaser, and I cursed myself for being so distracted. I flew between the hoops all the same, and I remembered I actually preformed fairly well at this position during tryouts. The more I thought about it the more my confidence grew. I knew I'd impress the team if I had a good game today.

I had a fairly poor game unfortunately. Dominick Weber and Rosemary were flying against me, and showed no mercy despite my inexperience. I remember first being angry at Rosemary for not helping me look good, but I soon realized that I would have eventually been angrier if she hadn't given me her best.

Weber was flying at me now from my left side, I pushed my right shoulder out towards him in order to narrow his angle on goal. He was heading right towards me, and showed no sign of slowing down. What was he doing? If he kept this speed for a few more seconds he'd run right into me! As the distance between us closed my nerve broke, and I rolled out of the way. Weber pushed the Quaffle through the hoop with ease.

"Come on Wood! Do ya even have a bloody spine?" Yelled Birch.

I felt my face redden with embarrassment, and I shot an angry glare at Weber. It's illegal in Quidditch to intentionally fly into another player, but players will use a game of chicken to intimidate the other team. It's common for a real game, but not for a "friendly scrimmage."

My opponents were on the attack again, and this time Rosemary was driving in for the shot. I decided then I was going to stop her from scoring on me even if I had to risk my own safety. She was close now, almost as close as Weber had been. I saw her arm cock back and fly across her body in a convincing pump fake. I didn't move. My nerve held, and I poured all of concentration into watching Rosemary's body mechanics.

 _Chest and shoulders slid back…Grip is firm…twisting at the side…held the release…THERE!_

Rosemary's shot was heading for the right hoop. She threw from such close range that there was no way to cover the distance by broom. Instead I dove off of my Cleansweep Six towards the Quaffle. I kept the top of my left foot wrapped around the broom to prevent me from falling, but the rest of my body was flying through the air. At first I thought I was too late, but I just managed to push the Quaffle around the hoop with the tips of my fingers. I didn't have time to celebrate though, because my body was now moving down through the air. My left foot kept me hanging from my broom, but I could feel it slipping. I kicked out with my right and managed to connect it with the floating piece of wood and straw. I was safe from falling, but still dangling like an idiot. I took a deep breath, gathered all my remaining strength, and began lifting myself towards my broom. The muscles in my stomach were tight and the pain mixed with being upside down made me see spots. After the most difficult sit up of my life, I was back on broom.

"Weasley!" Yelled Colquhoun. He had flown all the way from his own hoops to Charlie, who had flown up next to me. "Weasley did you see that?"

"Think so." Said Charlie.

"That lad just nearly killed 'imself to save a goal in a bloody scrimmage!" Said Alec.

The two older students turned and looked at me with smiles before Alec spoke again.

"He's fuckin' perfect I reckon."


	7. Chapter 7

The round, rolling hills and flower, filled meadows on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole were a welcomed change to the dull suburban neighborhood my parents and I lived in. I always cherished the times we went out to the countryside as a family, because it made me feel like the world was so much more open and wonderful. I wasn't with my family today though. Mr. Weasley and Charlie had picked me up in an old Ford Anglia, and were driving me to their home, the Burrow. I was puzzled by the fact that Mr. Weasley had driven to come get me. He could have easily apparated or taken the Floo Network. The view outside my window was beautiful though, so I didn't mind.

"Think we're clear Dad?" Said Charlie.

"Oh! Right! Yes I believe we're far enough away now." Said Mr. Weasley.

Before I could ask, the Weasley patriarch pulled a lever, and the car began lifting off into the sky. My stomach dropped from the sudden change in altitude, but quickly settled.

"Pretty cool huh?" Said Charlie while turning back to look at me.

I nodded in agreement. It wasn't close to the thrill of flying on a broom, but I had to admit, getting this muggle hunk of metal airborne was quite impressive.

"Dad is working on an invisibility function, so we can use it 'round muggles." Said Charlie.

"Yes, but it's very difficult to consistently cloak something for a long period of time you know." Said Mr. Weasley.

I was stunned when Charlie had invited me to spend a day at the Burrow this summer after the end-of-the-year scrimmage. I was convinced he had been joking until I received a letter from Percy a few days after I got home.

 _Mr. Oliver Wood,_

 _I am writing to inform you of your cordial invitation to spend this coming Saturday with our family at the Burrow. My brother Charlie wanted to let you know that there will be a fair amount of Quidditch practice planned for the day, so dress appropriately, and bring your broom. You will be picked up around eight o'clock in the morning and returned after dinner. Do write back if these arrangements are acceptable._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Percy Weasley_

His overly sophisticated tone would have once again been hilarious if not for the fact that I knew this was how he genuinely communicated. I wrote him back a confirmation letter even more ridiculous sounding than his own. I wasn't really sure of the definitions of most of my choice adjectives, but I doubted Percy cared.

Mr. Weasley landed the car a short while later, and Charlie took my inside to introduce me to his family. I felt incredibly awkward despite Mrs. Weasley's warm welcome. Percy and I were friends so meeting his family wasn't an unusual event, but I was there more as Charlie's guest. It was baffling to think somebody as legendary as Charlie Weasley would personally request that I come meet his family and practice Quidditch with him. It would be like if Albus Dumbledore showed up at your door one day to teach you a spell, and then invited you to tea with his mum. Absolutely barking mad.

I continued to ponder this as I was introduced to the remaining members of the Weasley family. Most of the younger sibling seemed to share the awkward feeling of being exposed to a stranger, and I couldn't really blame them. The twins, Fred and George, seemed nice enough, but I quickly learned their smiles were more of a cause for concern than to be put at ease.

"So." One of them said, "Heard 'bout your 'heroic save' last month."

"Yeah, our darling brother Charlie is a sucker for that 'risking your life' stuff." Said the other.

"Boys! Enough!" Said Mrs. Weasley.

"What?"

"We were just-"

"Welcoming the lad." They finished in unison.

It was creepy when they did it the first time, and it was still creepy years later.

"Right. Well now that everyone has met Oliver, I'd like to get some work in before the sun's too high." Said Charlie. He gestured for me to follow, and signaled for the twins as well.

"You two will be on the team soon enough, so you might as well put some work in today." He said.

"Mummy! I wanna play too!" Said the young sister named Ginny.

"Nonsense dear, you'll hurt yourself." Said Mrs. Weasley.

This was met with the dramatic protests of an eight year old girl. Charlie was quick off the mark though, and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh.

"There's no harm if she and Ron watch us, yeah Mum?" Said Charlie.

Mrs. Weasley was clearly not happy, but relented. "Very well, but if I see her on a broom Charlie Weasley I swear-"

"Great! Thanks Mum!" And with that we all rushed outside before she could change her mind.

"Sorry 'bout that." Said Charlie. "Mum can be quite overprotective, but she means well."

"Yeah, no worries." I said.

I could count on one hand the amount of times Charlie had personally addressed me in the past, so that fact that we were having a casual conversation was continuing the strangeness of the day.

"Julie got in this morning too, well technically she got here last night, but don't tell Mum that." He said with a grin.

I felt my face blush, and Charlie laughed at my embarrassment.

"Sorry mate, forgot you're a bit young." He said while slapping me on the back.

Surely this was a dream, because Charlie was treating me like we've been friends for years.

We made it to the orchard were the Weasley household had set up a make-shift Quidditch pitch. Birch was flying through the sky firing Quaffle after Quaffle through the hoops. When she saw our group approaching, and slowly descended to joined us.

"Bout time you lot made it out, I'm just about warmed up." She said.

"Did ya get the gear from Alec?" Said Charlie.

"Sure, it's sittin' right over there." Said Birch. She pointed to a pile of pads, and a helmet on the near sideline of the pitch.

Charlie began walking over to the assembled gear, and waved me over. When I got close enough he began speaking again.

"Courtesy of Alec Colquhoun, and don't worry about the cost. He's making enough money right now to buy us all new toys."

Alec was picked up by the Falmouth Falcons as soon as he graduated from Hogwarts. He was only a back-up Goalkeeper, but his signing bonus was enough to keep an average person comfortable for a long while.

I stared down at the pile of equipment before me. Nothing was left out. I had a new set of shin guards, arm guards, shoulder pads, gloves, a practice jersey, and a helmet. Everything a Goalkeeper needed. I panicked as the implications before me set in. I didn't want to play Goalkeeper, even if I had the talent for it. I wanted to be a Chaser, I wanted to fly up and down the pitch, and score goals, and have the crowd chant my name. Nobody ever cheered for Goalkeepers. The only time their names got brought up was when they failed to make a save. I thought about all the pressure, and the high standard everyone would expect. Fear and anxiety set in, and began to consume me.

"I-I can't accept this." I said

Charlie laughed, "I know mate, I'm rubbish at receiving gifts as well, but it made Alec really happy to do this, so just think of it as more of a treat for him." Said Charlie.

"No. I mean. I don't want to play Goalkeeper."

Dead silence. Fred, Gorge, Ron and Ginny stepped back, sensing the brewing confrontation.

"What?" Said Birch at last. "You care to rephrase that Wood?"

"Julie please." Said Charlie. "Let's hear 'im out."

"I knew this was a bloody bad idea." She said.

Charlie picked up his broom, and signaled for me to do the same, "How bout we go for a quick fly Oliver? Give ya a chance to talk and unwind a bit."

I nodded in agreement, and picked up my broom. Charlie and I took off before Julie could object.

To his credit, Charlie didn't press the issue at all, and allowed me to collect my thoughts as we circled the Weasley orchard. In fact, he waited for me to make the first comment. I slowed my broom and spoke up after a few laps, "Why are you being so nice to me?" I said.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You're talking to me today like we're best mates, and you've invited me to your home even though we've hardly even spoken before. Is this really all because of that one save I made?"

Charlie stayed silent for a few moments before responding. A good seeker needed to be patient, and Charlie could wait out a rock if he had to. "I see how form your perspective this might look like we're trying to manipulate you." He said. "You're right, we've hardly had any contact since you started school, and here I am suddenly inviting you to meet my family, that must have been pretty uncomfortable."

I nodded in agreement, but stayed quite.

Charlie stayed silent as well. The two of us hovered in the air for a few minutes, each processing the current situation.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the gifts, and the attention, but-" I said, trailing off.

"You feel like you didn't earn them." Finished Charlie.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, relieved to hear someone put it to words, "I mean, I didn't even get picked during tryouts, and after one casual scrimmage, you're treating me like I'm the most important player on Gryffindor's team!" I said.

"Well, just because you didn't make the team last year doesn't mean we didn't take an interest in you." Said Charlie.

"What?" I said.

"You showed some pretty great talent for a second year, and I meant what I said at the end of tryouts. There will come a time when this team needs passionate players like you." Said Charlie. "We had to focus on the first team during school, but this summer we can spend time developing players who show real potential, players like you Oliver."

My heart was beating faster, and my mind was racing. Did I really impress during tryouts enough to be noticed? Did Charlie Weasley really see me? I thought back to when he had flown down to personally give me the pump fake advice, and acknowledged that it might be true.

"Rosemary's endorsement carried a lot of weight too." Said Charlie, "She told us about your in-depth knowledge of the game, and that's something this team is gonna need in the coming years."

"But any tactical knowledge I have is useless as a Goalkeeper." I countered.

"Not true." Said Charlie, "Goalkeepers are the furthest player back, which means they see more of the pitch than anyone else, so it's critical that they're able to call the shots when needed."

"But I-"

"Don't want to play Goalkeeper." Finished Charlie. "Can you tell me why?"

"Well…it's…it's…I don't know, there's so much pressure on them, and when they mess up everyone hates them and-"

"I think I get it." Said Charlie, "Being a Goalkeeper is all about having confidence and mental discipline, which is a lot to ask for someone as young as you. You're afraid."

I nodded in shame.

Charlie flew closer to me and spoke again.

"Let me tell you something that I think will resolve both of your concerns." He said. "When Alec saw you make that save he saw the guts of someone tough enough to win the Cup for Gryffindor, and that's why there's a pile of gear on the ground down there. When I saw you make that save I saw someone with enough talent to be Gryffindor's starting Goalkeeper as a third year, and that's why you're here now." He finished.

I had to blink back my tears. The amount of faith Charlie had in me was overwhelming, "But it was just one save." I said.

"Yeah." Said Charlie, "And sometimes that's all it takes."

In that moment I decided that I would dedicate myself to whatever the team needed me to be. If I was going to be a Keeper, I'd be the best damn Keeper in the British Isles. Charlie bloody Weasley believed in me, how hard could it be to believe in myself?

"Okay." I said. "Where do we start?"

Charlie smiled, "Right here mate."


	8. Chapter 8

"Alright, let's see you drop into your stance." Said Charlie.

I gripped the front of my broom with my left hand, and bent my right at a forty-five degree angle in front of me.

"Switch!" Yelled Charlie.

I shifted my grip so that my right hand was now on the broom, and my left was at a forty-five.

"You're gonna need to practice getting quicker at that. You'll never truly know which direction a chaser is shooting until they release the Quaffle, so you have to be ready to fly laterally in either direction at any time." He said.

"Wouldn't it save me time to fly hands-free?" I asked.

"It would, but you'd probably end up falling. You need as much balance as possible when trying to make a save."

I nodded in understanding.

Charlie continued to drill me through the most basic fundamentals of Goalkeeping. He taught me how to set my hands, how to cut off an approaching chaser's angle on goal, and how to properly dive and recover. After an hour he decided it was time for some more practical work.

"Right! Julie, if you wouldn't mind taking some shots on our Keeper here." Said Charlie.

Birch didn't look like she had forgiven my moment of doubt earlier, and I expected her try and make me look as foolish as possible.

"Fred! George! You might as well get some shooting practice in as well, pays to be well rounded."

"Of course brother dearest." Said one of them.

Charlie started to warm me up by tossing a Quaffle back and forth with me. Every now and then he'd correct my hands or stance when I got sloppy.

"Sit up higher, don't slouch over your broom so much…remember to keep your hands together on a catch."

He lobbed a slow moving shot at the far right hoop. I stretched out to make the catch, but the Quaffle slipped past my fingers, and into the goal.

"Don't try and make a catch if you have to stretch out like that, it's better just to push the Quaffle to the side out of danger." He said.

I nodded.

"Right. Do your best with these shots, but if one gets through, you gotta put it out of your head and focus on the next one okay?"

"Got it." I said.

Without much warning, Charlie flew out of the way, and Birch began barreling down on the make-shift hoops behind me. She was approaching dead center, so I couldn't do much to reduce her angle. I held my ground, and got set in my stance. Every muscle in my body was primed and ready to pounce when needed. My eyes tracked the veteran chaser without blinking. In an instant, Julie's arm popped up and released the Quaffle towards the middle hoop. I pushed my broom straight up, and reached my free hand above my head. I got a whole palm on the Quaffle, and used the muscles in my wrist to tip it up over the top of the hoop.

"Good save Oliver!" Said Charlie.

I let out a whoop of celebration, and my confidence grew. I blocked the next two shots form Fred and George, and soon began to feel invincible. That arrogance was quickly corrected by Birch's next shot. The veteran chaser flew at me full speed, and launched a devastating strike that curved past me and into the right hoop.

 _I could have blocked that. Should have blocked it._

One of the twins was up next, but I barely noticed. I was still playing Julie's shot over again in my head, trying to see what I did wrong.

 _Think I dove too early…didn't anticipate the amount of spin she-SHIT!_

I watched as Fred put his shot through the left hoop with ease. I hadn't even tried to stop him, because I was completely rooted in place by my ruminating.

 _Damnit! Come on Oliver! Don't fuck this up worse!_

George was up next. He began his run down the center, but shifted to the left side when he got in shooting range.

 _Got you._

I pushed away from the hoops in an attempt to aggressively reduce his angle. Just when I thought I'd given him no room to shoot, he popped up and lobbed his shot over me and into the middle goal.

I moved back into position in front of the hoops with my head down and shoulders slumped. Charlie was moving towards me by the time I turned around.

 _Great. He's probably gonna tell me he was wrong to have faith in me, and that I'm a horrible Goalkeeper._

I braced myself for the inevitable scorn, but it never came.

"Looks like we're gonna need to work more on the mental side of Goalkeeping." Said Charlie once he was in ear shot.

"What?" I said.

Charlie laughed, "Clearly you understand the mechanics well enough, because you made three really good saves. Then one got through, and you got stuck inside your head, which resulted in two more scores."

I looked down, refusing to meet Charlie's eyes out of shame.

"Hey now!" Said Charlie, "You best look at me lad."

I glanced up, fearing I'd blown my only chance to get on the team.

Charlie put his hand on my shoulder, and continued speaking to me.

"It's okay Oliver. You did brilliant for someone who's just starting out." He said.

I nodded, and felt a bit of my anxiety melt away.

"Right!" Called Charlie, "Oliver and I are gonna go over something for a bit. Julie! Could please teach my nitwit brothers some Beater basics while we're away?"

Birch nodded, and pulled began shouting at the twins.

"Come on Wood, there's a tree nearby with some shade. We can chat there." Said Charlie.

We flew over to a tall oak tree near the pitch with branches that must have been hanging for over a hundred years. Charlie set down in a dirt patch, grabbed a stick and started drawing shapes in the ground. I landed next to him and glanced curiously at what he was illustrating. It was Quidditch pitch diagram.

"The confidence and mental fortitude needed to be a Goalkeeper are traits that aren't easily taught. You'll get there though, but for now I figured we'd take a break and talk tactics." Said Charlie.

My eyes lit up at the prospect of a lesson in Quidditch strategy from the Gryffindor Captain.

"Now, I already mentioned why it is important that Goalkeepers understand the methods of this game thoroughly." Said Charlie.

He used his stick to draw seven 'X's on one half of the dirt pitch, and seven 'O's on the other half.

"As Keeper, the most common tactical adjustment you'll be required to make will be with our beaters." Said Charlie, "Most of the time we'll use one beaters for pressing, and one for blocking.

Charlie drew a line pointing forward from one of the 'X's on the far side, and another line pointing backwards coming from the 'X' from the other side.

"The pressor is responsible for using a bludger to disrupt the other team, and create opportunities for ours, and the-"

"-blocker is used to protect our team from the other team's pressor." I finished.

I didn't want to be rude, but this was Quidditch basics, and I wanted to move into the more nuanced topics. Charlie wasn't offended though.

"I see Rosemary wasn't exaggerating." He said with a smile, "Right well then you'll understand that if both teams do this." He paused and drew identical lines for the 'O' team, "Then the Bludger control in the game will be balanced, one team will press with one of the Bludgers, and the other team with the second Bludger."

I nodded in understanding.

"There will be times though, where we'll want to use both of our beaters as pressors or blockers." Said Charlie, "This will depend on many different factors, where the Bludgers are, where our players are, where _their_ players are, and the score."

Charlie paused to make sure I was still following him.

"If you wanna make the team, you'll have to be comfortable changing our Beater formation. Goalkeepers always see the most on the pitch, so the job's on you." Said Charlie.

I processed the information Charlie gave me, and furrowed my brow. As if blocking shots wasn't pressure enough, now I'd be in charge of two other people on the team.

"How do I know when to change formation?" I asked.

"Best way to learn is by experience, and recognizing situations. Here, I'll talk you through some examples." Said Charlie.

He erased the four lines previously drawn, and set to work on making more.

A few hours later, Charlie stood up, and decided it was time for lunch. I wasn't complaining. My stomach had been growling for the past thirty minutes. I had an acute headache from the wealth of information Charlie had poured into me, but I was still skeptical about my ability to call a formation switch.

We made our way back to the orchard, and saw that the other Weasleys and Julie had been on break for a while. Birch and Charlie's youngest brother Ron were in a passionate discussion about the Cannon's chances this season, and the twins appeared to be entertaining Ginny with something.

"I see you lot were productive." Said Charlie as he landed.

"I hate Beater drills Weasley, you should have known I was gonna call it early." Said Julie.

"Probably right." Said Charlie.

There was a few seconds pause before he spoke again.

"Race everyone home for-"

Before Charlie could finish his sentence, the twins mounted their brooms and took off for the Weasley's home. Julie and Charlie weren't far behind, and I was left slowly realizing what had happened. With a curse that probably should have been muted due to Ron and Ginny's company, I turned my broom and raced to catch up.

I managed to close the gap between myself and the others, but still finished last.

"Hafta work on those reflexes mate." Said one of the twins.

"Don't wanna be slow off the start as a Keeper." Finished the other.

"Yeah I'll keep that in mind, thanks." I said with an eye roll.

Mrs. Weasley brought us sandwiches to eat outside, but not without consequences.

"Boys! You _must_ stop flying around so close to the house, there's not enough tree coverage! You know that!" She said. "And for goodness sake, did you leave your brother and sister out by the orchard alone? Honestly." She turned back into the house with a huff, "You best make sure they get back okay."

"You all eat. I'll got check on them." Said Charlie.

No one raised any complaint. Apparently I wasn't the only starving one.

I just finished my second sandwich when Charlie, Ron, and Ginny made it back to the house. We were kind enough to save some for them, but it hadn't been without debate.

It was too hot to get back to practicing after our meal and it was never wise to fly on a full stomach anyway, so I decided to spend the remaining part of the afternoon with Percy. This decision was met with bewilderment from the other Weasleys. Apparently it was unheard of for somebody to actually _choose_ to spend time with their obnoxious brother. What can I say though, I have an odd taste in friends.

I made my way to Percy's bedroom on the second floor, and knocked on his door.

"Come in." I heard him say.

I opened to door, "Sorry to bother you, but I figured I'd keep you company if it's no trouble." I said.

"No trouble, please come in." Said Percy, "I was just-"

"Reading?"

"How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." I said.

Percy's room was small, but immaculately well kept. A single bed was pushed snug against the window facing the garden. The drawers and closet were free of clutter, and worn clothing. Percy was sitting at his desk; a tiny wooden thing that desperately needed a paint job. I grabbed a spare chair from the other side of the room, knowing that sitting on Percy's bed while sweaty from Quidditch would wound him.

"How was your practice?" Asked Percy.

"It was okay." I said, "Sure is strange having Charlie talking to me."

"He wants to make sure you tryout again."

"I'm sure, but still…" I trailed off, "Anyway, your brother started going over some basic strategy earlier, and it felt like I was back in the library studying with you again!"

Percy nodded his head, "My brother is quite the scholar when he applies himself."

"What 'bout your other brother eh Bill?" I said, "You've mentioned him before, but I didn't see him earlier today."

"He's in Egypt right now, got hired as a Curse Breaker when he graduated." Said Percy.

"Wicked! What, does he break into secret pyramids and stuff like that?" I asked.

Percy began to respond but stopped, "You know, I'm actually not sure what he's doing there. I haven't spoken with him much since he moved out." Percy's head dropped and he folded his hands, "But I don't talk to my family much anyway."

Percy's loneliness and sorrow were evident in his tone and words. I was surprised. He wasn't the type to openly display emotions.

"Must be hard not havin' anyone to talk to here." I said.

"Well they're not much good for conversation anyway." He said.

That was the superiority complex of the Percy Weasley I was familiar with, but he almost seemed like a person there for a second which was promising.

"Are we friends Oliver?" Asked Percy.

I was completely caught off guard.

"Well…of course. I mean I'm at your house mate."

"I know I know, but you're just here for Charlie's…thing…I don't know."

Percy looked genuinely flustered which shocked me more than seeing him expressing emotions.

"Percy. I do consider you to be my friend, hell I'll sign a contract if it makes you-"

"Why?" He asked.

A silence came between us that choked out any ambient noise we might have been hearing. After several long moments I tentatively broke that silence.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why would you want to be friends with me?" Asked Percy. The uncertainty was gone from his voice, "I know I'm not easy to be around, and I seem to constantly antagonize people. So why not you?"

"Well Percy you antagonize me all the time, I just know not to take it personally." I said.

"So you tolerate me." Said Percy.

"Come on mate." I said.

"It's okay Oliver, I just wanted to kno-"

"At first it was because I felt sorry for you." I said in a hurry, "You were a first year with no friends, and it made me feel good to talk to you, but..."

My mind was racing to try and find the right way to put my feelings into words.

"But after I while, I realized you were…well maybe not 'fun' but-"

"Prat..." Said Percy.

" _But_ an interesting person who would be the most popular kid in our year if you'd just take that stick out your arse!"

We both stayed passive for several minutes, each desperately avoiding the eyes of the other. Percy finally spoke up.

"Well. I appreciate your honest." He said.

"If it's any consolation, I'd been your friend even if you had a whole tree shoved up ya." I said.

Percy snorted, and it was the first time I'd ever seen him laugh un-ironically.

"Well thanks. I appreciate that." He said.

Again the silence surrounded us.

"So this has been…weird." I said.

"Weird…but somehow satisfying." Said Percy.

"And of course-"

"Oh we'll never speak of it again."

"Of course."

More silence.

"Do you think this is what girls talk about with each other…feelings and such?" Asked Percy.

"I don't know." I said, "Maybe?"

"Hmm."

Before letting the silence come around us again, I stood up and slapped Percy on the shoulder.

"Good talk then, now come on you gotta show me those bloody gnomes your brother keeps going on about."

Dinner with the Weasleys was eventful to say the least. Nine people crammed into a much too small eating-area automatically triggered some mild claustrophobia, but the food was delicious so it was hard to complain. After we cleared our plates, I realized that it was time to head home. Mr. Weasley said it was too dark to use the car, so I'd have to take the Floo home.

Charlie gave me a hand created book of diagrams and explanations filled with Quidditch drills and plays. It was easily the second most valuable item I owned, next to my broom. He also told me to expect some more training time during the summer, and that he'd see about getting some of the others on the team out.

After Charlie's debriefing, I said my good byes, grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder, and was home.


	9. Chapter 9

_"Grieve with the Quaffle now…she gets past Cortot with a lovely bit of skill there! Greer is at the hoops screaming for it…Grieve sees him an-wow! What a pass! Finley Grieve lobs her throw over the keeper and Greer finishes with ease! Scotland 70, France 30."_

I cheered along with my Dad, and the other Scotland supporters in the stadium. It was strange seeing our national team playing so well, but most analysts agreed this was the best team Scotland had produced in many years. The talented young players seemed to have clicked just in time for the 1990 World Cup qualifying games.

" _Lefeuvre's trying to get regain his team's early momentum with an aggressive drive on this left side. He takes a vicious Bludger from McAlister, but shrugs it off! Incredible!"_

"That's a monster of a man that is!" Cried one of the Scottish supporters.

 _"He shakes off Burns, and now Gregoire Lefeuvre is one on one with the Scottish Keeper!"_

A collective groan rose up around me as well as a few swears.

"Let's see how tough Liz is then." Said my Dad.

Liz Stewart was the first female Goalkeeper in the Scottish team's history. Her appointment to the position was met with quite a few grumbles from the International Quidditch Community, but their misogyny was bollocks. Stewart had an excellent season with the Harpies, and if she was a man, nobody would have objected.

I watched her closely, trying to anticipate what she would do against a much larger opponent with little support from her team. To my surprise, she rushed away from the hoops and straight at Lefeuvre.

"The fuck she doin'?"

"Bloody fool."

"What the hell she thinkin'?"

The objections continued around me, and I admit I had my fair share as well. Moving so far away from the hoops was certainly unorthodox.

Stewart knew what she was doing though. The brave Keeper closed the distance between her and the French Chaser, and caught Lefeuvre completely off guard. He quickly raised his arm to lob a shot over the advancing Liz, but that's just what she wanted. Stewart jumped into the Chaser's shot and blocked it at close range. She crashed into Lefeuvre on the follow but it was a legal hit, because she had made a play on the Quaffle first. Still broke her nose and knocked the wind out of her. Lefeuvre stood over six feet tall and weighed three times as much as Stewart, and crashing into him must have been painful. She stopped him though, and that erased much of the fan's previous doubts.

The first game of Scotland's 1990 qualifying campaign ended in a rousing victory. The team would continue to play through the summer and fall of 1989, and I was confident that if they continued to perform like they did against France, they'd have no problem securing a spot next summer.

My father and I made our way out of the stadium and over to the apparition zone after the game ended.

"Thanks for the tickets Da." I said.

"Well, happy belated birthday Oliver." He said with a smile.

"So I reckon Scotland will go on and win the Cup next year yeah?" I said.

My Dad laughed, "Maybe, but I think they'll find a way to let us down."

"You're such a pessimist!" I said jokingly.

"Can't help it, been watching Scotland play for too many years."

I stuck my tongue out to wrap up my sophisticated argument, and earned another smile from my Dad.

"Oi! Wood! That you?" An unfamiliar voice called from behind us.

"Aw Christ." Mumbled my father. He turned and addressed the person calling, "Hello Gibson, Reynolds, Stone."

I turned and saw there was a group of three men, each dressed in bright new clothing with the smug look of upper class stamped on their faces.

"Surprised you could afford to watch the game Wood." Said Gibson, the man who spoke originally, "I know those painting ya make don't sell for much."

"It's enough." My father said. I could tell he was restraining a further comment.

Gibson moved his eyes to mine, "And I see you brought your Half-blood bastard with you, what a good father." He said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

My eyes widened in shock. No one had ever addressed me by my blood status before.

Dad moved me behind him, and took a step forward, "You best try and rephrase what you said to my son." The fury in his tone made his voice unrecognizable.

The three men drew their wands, "You don't tell me what to do, Mudblood." Said Gibson.

The raised wands made me panic. We were only a dozen or so meters away from the apparition zone, and I desperately wanted us to leave.

Three MLES officers quickly began moving towards us, and seeing them gave me a moment of relief. Surely the men wouldn't try anything with law enforcement around. The officers took a position in between my father and the men, and to my surprise, two of the Blues pointed their wands at me and my father. The third walked over to Gibson and began speaking.

"These two givin' ya any trouble?" Said the officer.

"No, just needed a reminder of their place." Said Gibson. He, Reynolds, and Stone spat in the ground and walked away.

The officer turned and addressed my father, "Best move along sir."

My father glared at the man, but turned, grabbed my shoulder, and walked us over to the apparition zone. I had a dozen or so questions, but my father still had murder in his eyes, so I held my tongue for the moment. As soon as we reached the zone, he pulled me close and apparated outside our home with a pop. It was dark and Mum had probably already gone to bed.

My father let out a heavy sigh before addressing me, "Go on and have a seat on the couch inside. I'll make us some hot chocolate, and we'll talk about what just happened."

I nodded and moved inside to the couch. I took several deep breaths and tried to remember exactly what had happened earlier. Dad joined me on the couch but began speaking before I could ask any questions.

"I know you've probably got a lot to ask, but just let me speak okay?" He said.

I nodded, and Dad handed me a steaming cup.

"You know that I'm Muggle-born, and your mother is Pure-blood and what that means right?" He said.

"Yeah, Granny and Grandpa were magical, but Grams and Granpop weren't." I said.

"And you know the whole 'blood status' thing is complete shite yeah?" He said.

"Yeah, 'course Da." I said, "I know there's people that buy into it like those fancy dressed twats but-" I paused and tried to collect my thoughts, "But why were those Blues treatin' us like we did somethin' wrong? We weren't even the ones with our wands out!" I said.

My Dad sighed and lowered his eyes, "Your Mum and I should have probably talked with you about this earlier, but we didn't want to upset you."

"What ya mean?"

"At Hogwarts, blood status doesn't really matter, and that's because Albus Dumbledore is a good man who's worked very hard to make sure all students have the same chance to succeed." Said Dad, "But in the rest of the Wizarding World still struggles with prejudice."

"But I don't understand." I said, "Half-bloods and Muggle-borns have all the same rights as Pure-bloods."

"We do." Said my father, "And that's something wonderful we have, but there's still many powerful families that don't like that, and hundreds of years of injustice ingrained in our society. Most of the time it's subtle, but people like You-Know-Who remind us of just how fragile those rights we have are." He said.

My skin prickled at the mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This conversation in general was making me uneasy, but I still had questions.

"So that Gibson fellow was like a-" I softened my voice, "a Death Eater?"

"Him? No." Said Dad, "He's not crazy enough to want to hurt Muggle-borns and Half-bloods, but he's got a lot of contempt for us though, and there's a fair amount in the Ministry who share his view."

"So what about those Squad Officers?" I asked, "Did they threaten us because we weren't Pure-bloods?"

My Dad sank lower into the couch before answering, and I took a sip of my hot chocolate.

"That's a complicated issue Oliver, and I don't have all the answers, but I'll try my best to explain it." He said.

I nodded in understanding.

"Have you ever noticed how the majority of the people higher up in the Ministry are Pure-blood, or come from one of the noble families?" He asked.

"I haven't really thought about it honestly." I said.

"Well despite the fact that Pure-bloods are vastly outnumbered by other wizards or witches, they make up the majority of the powerful positions across all branches of the Ministry." He said, "Most of them are good-natured people, but the Pure-bloods with huge supplies of wealth and influence can, to some degree, control how the media and law enforcement treat Muggle-borns and Half-bloods."

He paused and allowed me a chance to process.

"So they bribe the DMLE to treat us different?" I asked.

"It's so much more subtle, hell, Amelia Bones is head of the DMLE and she's a strong champion of Muggle-borns." Said Dad, " But these families have spent countless galleons on political campaigns and Prophet stories over hundreds of years, all to create an atmosphere that suggests Pure-bloods are just different than everyone else." He said.

Rage began to course through my veins as my mind began to put the pieces together.

"So when those officers saw three recognized heads of Pure-blood families in a scrap with somebody else." Said my father, "They just assumed the Pure-bloods were in the right."

"But that's not fair!" I said.

"I know it's not." Said Dad, "But decades of prejudice have given them the privilege of being seen in a different light by the Ministry."

I clenched my fists and felts tears on my face.

"I know it's upsetting to hear Oliver, but there's a lot of people like Dumbledore who work every day to change this."

"It's just a lot to take in." I said.

"I know son. Let's put a pin in it for now though, we can talk about it more as a family later." Said Dad.

"Wait, I have one more question." I said.

"Shoot."

"How'd ya know that Gibson prick?" I asked.

My Dad laughed, "We were in the same year at Hogwarts. He never liked the fact that I married your mother. Always said it was because I was Muggle-born, but I think it was because he wanted to marry her instead."

My stomach twisted at the thought of my mother with someone as despicable as Gibson.

"It's late though, you should get to bed Ollie." Said Dad, "We can talk more in the morning."

I nodded and after hugging my father I made my way across the house. My mind was still racing with thoughts by the time I got in bed. Anytime prejudice was brought up at school it was in reference to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or to a time period hundreds of years ago. It was terrifying to think the Ministry that was supposed to protect us could be so corrupt and unjust.

I wondered if that would influence whether or not I'd have a chance at playing professional Quidditch. I remember all of the articles and analysts who prior to the Scotland vs. France game said Liz Stewart wouldn't succeed at Goalkeeper just because she was a woman. I fell asleep that night trying to remember if anyone had said something similar about a Muggle-born Quidditch player.


	10. Chapter 10

The remaining days of that summer passed without incident. I played Quidditch with Charlie, and a few others on the team once towards the end of August, but I practiced more on my own for the upcoming year. Despite the extra attention I was receiving, Charlie informed me that I would still have to impress at tryouts to win a spot on the team. I supposed that was fair. Honestly my only real competition was the reserve keeper from last year, and judging from his performance against Slytherin, I had nothing to worry about.

It was strange feeling confident in myself. This time last year I had so many doubts about my ability and future in Quidditch. Now, after only a few months of work and tutelage, it seemed like playing Goalkeeper would be a simple task. I was wrong of course, but so are most people when they're thirteen.

I thought about the confrontation with the MLES after the Scotland game a lot. I still wasn't sure what to make of it. Mum talked with me the following morning, but she just echoed what Dad had said that night. It wasn't that I didn't believe my parents, but it was difficult to accept that people in the Ministry would be prejudice against me. I decided to ask my friends about it the next time I saw them.

I had shown my parents the playbook Charlie gave me at the beginning of the summer, and a few days before September, my Dad surprised me with a gift.

"Been working on something for ya." Said Dad as he plopped down on the couch next to me.

"Yeah?" I said, "What is it?"

He handed me a book with Quidditch hoops on the cover.

"Thought I'd read every book 'bout Quidditch ever written." I said jokingly.

"Well this one's a bit different. Go on, have a look."

I opened the first page tentatively, and was greeted by a familiar drawing from Charlie's playbook. It was different though. The diagram was clearer and in color, and the explanations were all written out in an easier to read script.

"I figured after seeing how much you read that thing over the summer you'd want a copy that's a bit nicer." Said Dad.

I flipped through a few more pages, and was captivated by the beauty of each drawing. I knew my father was a talented artist, but this piece was so personal, so it felt much more special.

"Had to keep sneaking Charlie's copy out of your room while you slept for reference, and you made it difficult readin' it at all hours of the night." He said with a playful nudge.

"It's amazing." I said, completely lost for further words.

"Your mother helped too, charmed it to prevent from getting' damaged and such."

"Thank you."

"Of course, you're my son."

I kept my family's gift on hand as I boarded the Hogwarts Express later that week. Rosemary and the others would be with different friends for the ride to the castle, but we'd catch up later in the common room and discuss the latest qualifying matches. I decided to reserve an empty compartment for myself and Percy. The Weasleys always ran a bit late, and my snooty friend would have nowhere else to sit.

Sure enough, I saw him trudge down the corridor just as the train began to pull away. He pulled open the compartment door, and began speaking before getting settled.

"Honestly, you'd think my brothers would learn to pack in advance after years of nearly missing the Express, but no. It seems I'll be forever subjected to the mad dash of my family every September first." He said.

"Nice to see you too Percy." I said with a smile.

"Are you actually studying early Oliver?" He said glancing at the book in my hands.

"Sort of. It's Charlie's playbook. My Dad dressed it up all nice." I handed him the book for closer inspection.

Percy held the tome how most people would hold an infant child, and began flipping through the pages.

"These drawings are fantastic." He said, "I had no idea your father was such an artist."

"Yeah you should see our house, all the walls are covered in paintings and drawings from over the years."

I was always proud of the art my father produced. There were a lot of people in the Wizarding World who sneered at him, because he did paintings and drawings for muggles, but it was hard to argue that he wasn't gifted.

"Hey Percy, I wanted to ask you about something." I said.

"What is it?"

"Well, over the break I went to the Scotland, France game, and…I don't know…I guess just something strange happened."

"What do you mean 'strange'?" Asked Percy.

"Well there were these Pure-Bloods, the kind that think they're better than the rest of us, and they tried to pick a fight with my Dad."

"Yeah, my Dad gets harassed by people like that at work…has to do with his obsession with muggle…things." Said Percy.

"Yeah but that wasn't the strange bit." I said, "See these three Blues showed up, and they pointed their wands at me and my Dad, and were acting like we were in the wrong."

"Did your father do anything to provoke them?"

"No! See that's the strangest part. The Pure-Bloods were the ones with their wands drawn."

Percy stayed silent for a few moments, and I could tell that he was mulling over what I had said to him.

"Well…you must have done something that alarmed them." He said finally.

"But we weren't! We were just standing there." I said, "My Dad said it was because the Ministry is prejudice against people who aren't Pure-Bloods, but I don't know…"

"That's a silly assumption." Percy said sharply, "The Ministry is there for the betterment of the whole Wizarding World, they wouldn't actively seek to disadvantage a group of people."

"I mean my Dad said it was a subtle thing, like it took hundreds of years, and the influence of erm…wealthy families and such…I don't know it was something like that."

"But that's obviously not true Oliver, I mean your Dad doesn't even work for the Ministry so how would he-"

"He's Muggle-born though! So he's been subjected to-"

"If there was a problem that substantial with the Ministry, don't you think we'd have heard something about it before?" Said Percy.

I was beginning to grow angry. My Dad had spoken with such conviction that night, and I was struggling to find the right words to convey that now.

"Perhaps the officers just made a mistake? Isn't that a much simpler explanation than this conspiracy nonsense?"

"Conspiracy? This wasn't some crazy idea Percy, this _actually_ happened to me."

"I don't doubt you Oliver, and I agree, those Pure-Blood supremacists are a danger to society just like…" His voiced quieted, "Just like You-Know-Who, but the Ministry fought against him, and others like him, so how could they support those ideas at the same time?" He said.

"I don't know okay!" I said, "Just forget I brought it up…"

Percy seemed confused as to why I was upset, but dropped the matter as I requested. To be fair, I wasn't sure why I was upset either. Maybe it was because Percy's idea meant that my father was wrong, or that deep down I knew Dad wasn't wrong about the Ministry. Either way I stayed mad at my dorm-mate for the remainder of the ride to Hogwarts.

I met up with Rosemary, Alfie, Tyler, and Becs after the feast and ceremony. Seeing them again quickly brought me out of my mood.

"So the Americans look surprisingly put together this year yeah?" Said Tyler.

"Yeah we'll see how put together they look against a real team like Canada." Said Becs.

"Or Mexico." Said Rosemary, "But without Flores they'll probably be a disappointment."

"Speaking of disappointments…" Said Alfie.

"Oh are we talking 'bout England already?" Said Tyler.

We all laughed.

"I swear, that team has the most talent year after year, but when ya put 'em together it's like a first year tryin' to fight a boggart." Said Rosemary.

"Well not every team in the U.K. had a disgraceful summer." Said Becs, "How did Scotland look against France Oliver?"

I took in a deep breath and prepared to give my analysis.

"They looked good…like…really good." I said, "Stewart is an incredible Keeper, and our Chasers worked better than I've ever seen…I think they could go on and win next year."

This bold statement was met with a chorus of 'Ohhs!' and whistles.

"Ah bollocks." Said Becs, "As much as I want Scotland to do well, they're bound to let us down."

"Anything interesting happened at the game Oliver?" Asked Rosemary.

I remembered Percy's reaction to the story about the MLES officers, and decided against sharing it again.

"Nah, not really, was a good game though."

We talked for several more hours before heading to bed. It was good to be back at Hogwarts, and to have more people to talk about Quidditch with, but I thought I'd get more closure about the incident at the game. Instead, I just felt more confused and angry after talking about it with Percy, and didn't feel comfortable trying to bring it up with anybody else. Dad mentioned Dumbledore worked against the discrimination by the Ministry, but I couldn't just walk up to the Headmaster and ask 'Hey there! Mind telling me if the world hates me or not?'

I couldn't think of anyone else to ask though, so that night as I tried to fall asleep, I decided I would try and talk to the Headmaster of Hogwarts in the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

"Dumbledore?" Said Charlie, "Why do you need to see the Headmaster? Everything okay Oliver?"

"Yeah…well no but-" I took a deep breath and composed myself, "I just need to talk to him about something, it's no big deal though."

Charlie gave me a puzzled look, and raised a set of skeptical eyebrows.

"Come on Charlie, I'm askin' ya because you're a Prefect. Do you know how I could…I don't know…set up a meeting?" I finished awkwardly.

"I guess you could ask him at breakfast. He's quite friendly, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Said Charlie.

"I'd rather talk to him in private if that's at all possible." I said.

Charlie nodded, "Then talk to McGonagall after class, see if she can set a meeting up."

I thanked Charlie and made my way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I was doubtful the Headmaster would have the time to see me, because he probably had a plethora of more important tasks needing to be addressed. I sat down by myself at the Gryffindor long table and began chewing on some toast as I continued with my thoughts.

I was trying to remember what exactly Dumbledore did on a day to day basis. He didn't teach a class, but surely he didn't just sit in his office all day…doing paperwork? What exactly did Headmasters do? I had the brief thought that maybe they did nothing substantial, and relished any opportunity to impart knowledge into confused students seeking answers. Like a living fortune cookie. The more I thought about it the more ridiculous of a notion it seemed.

"You there Oliver?" Said Rosemary.

I turned my attention to the sixth year girl in front of me. I hadn't noticed her sit down across from me.

"How long have I been sitting here not saying anything?" I asked.

"Not long, but you had this stupid look on your face."

"That's my deep introspection face." I said.

"Looked like you were trying to decide if rookies should celebrate or cry after getting drafted by the Cannons." She said.

"That's a grand dilemma."

"Oh for sure."

"Because on one hand, you get to play pro Quidditch but-"

"You'll probably hate the sport by the end of your first month." Said Rosemary.

We both nodded, and sat together in silence for a few moments. I always enjoyed how easy Rosemary was to talk to.

"So you're not sitting with the girls in your year, something wrong?" I asked.

"Not really, Maggie split up with her boyfriend, and insists on talking about nothing else."

"Didn't have any insight for her?" I asked.

"Well you're the one sitting here pondering the mysteries of the universe, maybe you should counsel her." Said Rosemary.

I thought for a moment, then smiled.

"I'd tell her to cry for now but hold out, because a better team will probably pick her up by December."

Rosemary laughed.

Luckily Transfiguration was my first class that morning, so I didn't have long to wait to talk to McGonagall. I barley paid attention in class, because I was so obsessed with how to make my strange request. As the other students filed out of the classroom, I made my way to the front and cleared my throat.

"Yes Mr. Wood? Is there something I can help you with?" Said McGonagall.

"Yes Professor…well sort of." I stammered, "I was wondering if I could set up a meeting to talk to Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall gave me a confused look.

"Mr. Wood, I am your Head of House. If you have any concerns you can always bring them to me." She said.

"I understand Professor, but I spoke about this with my father over the summer, and he said Dumbledore would understand." I said.

It wasn't that I didn't trust McGonagall, but Percy's rejection of my father's explanation made me cautious of who else to talk to.

McGonagall cleared her throat, and looked flustered for some reason. In my two years of having her as a professor I'd never seen her composure compromised.

"Of course Mr. Wood…if you'd rather speak about this…issue…with a-a _male_ authority I perfectly understand." She said.

My face turned red as the implication of McGonagall's words hit me.

"Oh! Oh no Professor! I mean-I'd rather talk to Dumbledore, but not that I don't think you're qualified! Um…but it's not about um…well _that sort of thing_ …but um."

"It's perfectly alright Mr. Wood. I'll let the Headmaster know to expect you this evening after dinner." Said McGonagall.

I mumbled a 'Thank you' and bolted out of the room. The embarrassment threatened to overwhelm me, but at least I had a chance to talk to Dumbledore later.

The rest of the day passed by slowly. Most first days did though. I signed up to take Care of Magical Creatures and Divination for my extra classes, but I wasn't particularly thrilled by either. Being outside with Professor Kettleburn just made me want to get to Quidditch already, and Trelawney seemed…off. Still, they were both infinitely better than Potions with Snape.

Charlie announced tryouts would be this coming Saturday after everyone was finished with classes for the day. I still felt oddly confident about my chances of getting on the team. I had reason to be at ease though. Charlie and the rest of the team wouldn't have spent time with me over the summer if they didn't think I would do well. Still, I couldn't help but imagine a situation where an unknown talent showed up and played better than me. I put those thoughts aside. Charlie told me I had to work on becoming tougher mentally, and that meant I had to stop causing myself unnecessary anxiety.

An hour pasted dinner that night I made my way to the entrance of the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle standing guard looked quite menacing, but that's not what caused my sudden panic. McGonagall hadn't told me the password! How was I supposed to see Dumbledore now?

As if on cue, I heard a voice behind me.

"Ah there you are Mr. Wood." Said Dumbledore.

I turned in surprise to see the elder wizard approaching me. I hadn't even heard him turn the corner.

"Ugh, H-hello Headmaster."

"Minerva informed me that you had something you wished to discuss?" He said.

"Ugh…oh! Yes sir…yes sir I do."

Dumbledore walked over to the gargoyle and said something that sounded an awful lot like 'Lemon drop.'

"Very good, we may speak privately in my office." Said Dumbledore.

The guard to the Headmaster's office parted to reveal a narrow, spiral staircase. The Headmaster began to climb the stairs, and I quickly followed.

"So Mr. Wood. I take it you'll be tryout for the Gryffindor Quidditch team this weekend?"

"I-I will." I said, "How did you know tryouts were this Saturday? Charlie just told us a few hours ago."

Dumbledore chucked, "Well I am the Headmaster, I make it my business to know what is happening in my school."

"Oh…of course." I said awkwardly.

It was surreal being alone in the presence of someone as famous as Albus Dumbledore. Everyone in the Wizarding World knew about his prowess with magic, and his heroic defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald. There was also this aura around him that radiated a kind of quite power and intensity that was difficult to describe. The fact that someone with his kind of weight in the world had agreed to hear the trivial problems of a child spoke a lot about his character.

We reached his office a few moments later, and I was greeted with a surprisingly cluttered room. I had expected the Headmaster's office to resemble something like a throne room with grand tapestries, windows, and wide space. Instead, the office was a humble size. The walls were covered with portraits and books, and instead of a throne, there was a desk covered with parchment.

Dumbledore led me to a chair opposite his desk, and offered me some candies he kept in a jar. After we both got settle, he addressed me again.

"Now then, what can I help you with today Oliver?"

The use of my first name threw me off, but I took a deep breath and began speaking. I told him about my experience at the Scotland, France game and the incident with the MLES officers. I told him about the conversation with my father later that night, and the argument with Percy on the train. Dumbledore stayed quite through my entire explanation, and listened to me with attentive eyes.

"So I guess I'm just confused about what happened, and if I'm honest, I'm worried that something like what happened that night would prevent me from playing professional Quidditch." I said.

The Headmaster stayed quite for another few moments before speaking for the first time in several minutes.

"Your father is correct Oliver, this is a very nuanced and complicated topic, and it's one that boys your age shouldn't have to worry about." He sighed and continued, "But sometimes, life forces us to grow up faster than we'd like, especially when we encounter certain difficulties.

Even without giving me a direct answer, I already felt better hearing the Headmaster's calm but logical words.

"There is indeed prejudice still in the Ministry, and in the Wizarding World as a whole. Certain groups of people whether they be wealthy, powerful, or of a certain blood-status, enjoy privileges that others must work harder to enjoy." He said.

I nodded in understanding. His explanation seemed similar to my father's.

"It is true though, that I have worked hard to make Hogwarts a place void of those prejudices, so you will not experience anything like you did after that game while I am Headmaster here, that I can assure you."

His promise was immediately comforting, and his certainty sent tingles up and down my spine.

"And I believe that if you are truly gifted at Quidditch, then you will encounter no problems with playing professionally." He said with a smile, "Charlie told me he had a lot of confidence in you, so it seems you must have a knack for the game."

"Charlie talked to you about me?" I asked.

"Oh yes. He's quite excited to have found someone with the potential to be great."

By now I should have been used to Charlie's praise, but I couldn't help the feelings of surprise and confusion at the Headmaster's word.

"Sometimes I really don't know what he sees in me. It's not like I've really proven myself yet."

"I've found that Mr. Weasley is an excellent judge of character, so I'm sure the reasons for his confidence will become clear soon." Said Dumbledore.

We both sat in silence for a few moments before the Headmaster resumed speaking.

"Was there anything else you wanted to ask me Oliver?"

I thought for a moment, "Do you think Percy was right? Did those officers just made a mistake, or were they being prejudice?"

Dumbledore let out a deep sigh, "I'm afraid we might never truly know the answer to that question. It would be impossible to go back to that moment, and learn the objective truth, well almost impossible." Dumbledore resumed speaking before I could ask what he meant by that, "You are young Mr. Wood. Do not let your childhood years become consumed by questions for another time."

I nodded in understanding.

"Thank you Headmaster, I appreciate you seeing me tonight." I said.

"Of course. Hogwarts will always be a refuge, and source of comfort to those who need it most." Said Dumbledore.

After saying my goodbyes I took the long way back to the Gryffindor common room to give myself time to process the conversation. It didn't take long to find closure though. What the Headmaster said was true. For the moment, I didn't need to worry about my blood-status and its implications. I had Quidditch tryouts this weekend, and I needed to stay focused.

Saturday morning I awoke early like I did last year, and made my way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I didn't eat much, but I knew I would need something in my stomach.

By the time I made it down to the pitch, the sun had just made it up over the horizon. I inhaled deeply, and took in the scent of freshly cut grass. The Hogwarts Quidditch pitch never failed to give me a warm feeling every time I saw it. I couldn't allow myself to enjoy that feeling for too long though as tryouts would begin within the hour.

I was surprised at how similar the tryouts this year were setup compared to the ones last year. The opening two drills were identical. The only difference was that Birch had taken over Alec's role of providing, "encouragement." The major deviation came after the passing drill.

"Right, so the crucial position we're looking at today is Goalkeeper, so that's where we're gonna start." Said Julie. "Everyone interested in playing Keeper, make your way over to the hoops."

Myself, the reserve keeper from last year, and three other players made our way over to the tall set of goals. Julie flew over to us shortly, and explained that players would be driving at the hoops to shoot and we were to stop them. Each potential Goalkeeper would get ten shots before switching. Simple enough.

"Right, who wants to go first?" Asked Birch.

No body volunteered immediately, but after a few moments I stepped forward after remembering something Charlie told me over the summer.

 _"Keepers must be bold. When you rush out to make a challenge or close down space there must be no hesitation, because if you second guess yourself for even a second, you'll get scored on."_

"Try and give me a challenge Birch." I said, trying to sound confident.

"Let's see you back that talk up Wood." Said Julie.

The first four shots were easy saves. They came from some younger hopefuls who hadn't quite mastered the shooting mechanics. I didn't take them lightly though. I treated each attempt with full seriousness, and tried to display as many Goalkeeper features as possible. Quick reflexes, Quaffle security on catches, good punches on stronger shots, and a speedy recovery after diving.

The fifth shooter in line was Dominick Weber, and I knew he'd be difficult to stop. The veteran Chaser began his drive dead center, but quickly cut across the right side of the pitch in an attempt to draw me out. I held my nerve though. I'd let him fly around all he wanted as long as it wasn't into a threatening position. When the Chaser saw I wouldn't be easily lured out of position, he cut inside towards the hoops, and tried to curl a shot past me. I read his body language every step of the way, and pushed his attempt well out of danger.

I was five for five, and starting to think I could stop all ten. I got to eight before Rosemary ended my streak. She launched a brutal throw from twenty yards out that I had no chance to stop. I'd need to congratulate her on it after the drill, but I had no time to dwell on it now as the next shooter was lining up.

Rosemary ended up being the only one to score on me, and that included Birch on the last shot. Julie's attempt had forced me to go full stretch, and it was easily my most impressive save of the day.

The three new Goalkeeper hopefuls didn't fair particularly well. None of them managed to make more than five saves. Moss, the reserve Keeper, had been staring daggers at me ever since I finished my set. Apparently he didn't expect much competition for the position. When it was his turn I could tell he was nervous, and it showed as he played. He only managed seven saves.

I had fun with the remaining drills during tryouts. I was fairly confident I'd secured the starting spot. Not only had I managed more saves than Moss, but my technique had been cleaner, and less erratic.

Charlie flew down once we had finished, and delivered as similar speech to the one from last year. I should have been nervous, but I felt surprisingly at peace. I'd left everything I had on the pitch today, and was proud of my improvement in just a few short months.

"Active team is…Myself, Hayes, Birch, Weber, Poole, Carr, and Wood."

I couldn't help the stupid grin that appeared on my face, and my internal celebration prevented me from hearing the Reserve team names. It didn't matter though. I was now officially a Quidditch player for Gryffindor. My moment of bliss was cut short by a loud objection from Moss.

"What the bloody hell is this Weasley?" He said, "I played understudy to Alec for a whole year, and instead of me starting, you're gonna let this fuckin' runt play?" He said.

The older boy's face was red, and he was clenching his fists.

"Oliver made more saves than you today, and he came out looking sharper, there's no disputing that." Said Charlie.

"Bugger that." Said Moss, "I'm not being the reserve Keeper to a bloody third year."

He spat on the ground near Charlie's feet, and pushed several players away as he stormed off the pitch.

Charlie resumed addressing the remaining players, but Rosemary snuck over to me.

"Don't listen to that bastard. You completely outplayed him, and earned your spot today yeah?" She said.

I nodded, but the experience left a foul taste in my mouth on what should have remained a sweet moment.


	12. Chapter 12

After the unselected players left the pitch Charlie called a meeting for both the Active and Reserve teams.

"Right so this year we have a solid chance at the Cup." He said, "Everyone on the Active team is either a sixth year or seventh year minus Oliver, so we need to use that experience to our advantage."

Charlie's statement unnerved me. I began to realize that when people started to talk about this team, they'd call me the weakest link. The third year starting Keeper who was surrounded by a team of veterans. This also meant that if our games didn't go as expected, I would be the easiest to blame.

"Our first practice will be Tuesday evening. Be ready." Said Charlie, "Oh and one more thing." The sixth year boy turned to look at me, "Let's go show our new players their lockers."

The team guided me and the newest reserve players to the Gryffindor locker room. It was a small, simple building with neat rows of lockers and male and female showers. While the room itself might not have been much, what it represented meant so much more. I had my own locker as part of being on the Gryffindor team, and that somehow made my status feel more official.

"We'll get ya sized and fitted in a uniform soon." Said Rosemary, "Congratulations by the way, think I forgot to tell ya that."

"You did, but I guess that's only fair." I said.

She leaned in close and whispered something in my ear.

"First team is meeting here tonight after dinner, make sure you can sneak out okay?" She said.

My heart accelerated at her words. I just got on the team, and I'd already be doing something that could get me kicked off.

"And don't worry about McGonagall, she's in on it."

My eyes widened in shock.

"I doubt that." I said.

Rosemary shrugged, "She's willing to bend the rules for her Quidditch players, actually used to play herself back in the day."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, and she was apparently quite good." Said Rosemary.

I was having a difficult time picturing McGonagall as a rowdy, rule-breaking Quidditch player, but I suppose I didn't know the Professor very well outside of the classroom.

I spent the rest of the day Saturday listening to Quidditch with my friends. We didn't focus on the games too much though as everyone wanted to talk about tryouts instead.

"Saw Moss come burstin' through the common room lookin' all kinds of mad. Figured that meant you got the spot." Said Alfie.

"Yeah he wasn't pleased getting' out played by a third year." I said.

"Well congratulations Oliver, it's so exciting having two from our little group on the team!" Said Becs.

"Yes now we have another one we can live vicariously through." Said Tyler.

"What's that mean?" Said Alfie.

"It means when Wood starts getting' with every girl in Gryffindor Tower, he'll tell ya 'bout it, or better yet, set you up." Said Rosemary.

"Brilliant, could you see about introducing me to Amanda James then Oliver?" Said Alfie.

"What the new fifth year Prefect?" Said Tyler, "Best lower the bar a bit mate."

"Oi! You boys hush. Oliver is a nice sort of lad whose not gonna go 'round abusing his popularity." Said Becs.

"Ah we'll see." Said Rosemary, "I bet a Gallon after our first game he's gonna smell like a different perfume each week.

Rosemary's first comment made me blush, but now I was squirming with embarrassment.

"Well I don't think I'll have time for anything like that." I said, "I mean with practice and school, there's not really anytime for…girls." I finished weakly.

Rosemary looked at me and blinked her eyes rapidly.

"Oh child. You have so much to learn." She said.

I snuck out of the common room that evening an hour past curfew. I thought I'd be able to walk with Rosemary, but it appeared she left earlier than I had. I moved cautiously through the long hall ways, keeping my eyes open for any wandering patrols. Not a single one crossed paths with me though. It seemed Rosemary was right about McGonagall, she must have concentrated the patrols to the other side of the castle tonight.

As I approached the locker room I could hear laughter coming from the other side of the door. I entered the room gingerly, but was welcomed immediately.

"Mr. Wood! Thank you for joining us this evening at last!" Said Charlie.

The team was sitting in a circle passing around a bottle of Firewhisky.

"Come on and have a seat next me Oliver, and have a swig." Said Charlie.

I sat down next to my captain, but looked cautiously at the amber liquid.

"I-I'd rather not drink if that's alright." I said.

Several players on the team snickered.

"Alec could drink the whole team under the table if he wanted to lad." Said Poole, the Beater, "You've got big shoes to fill."

"I'm not Alec Colquhoun." I said with more conviction.

"You're damn right about that." Said Birch.

I clenched my fists. I couldn't understand why they would be so hostile towards me.

"Just have a sip Oliver, it's customary." Said Rosemary.

I reluctantly took the bottle, and brought it to my lips. The burning sensation hit the back of my throat and tongue immediately. I gagged, struggling to keep the alcohol down, and started to cough. The team was roaring with laughter around me, and gave me a sarcastic round of applause. Charlie clapped me on the back to help with the coughing.

"Well done lad." Said Weber, "Now have a bit more, it'll go down easier this time."

If there was one certainty I had at the moment, it was that I was not having any more of that Firewhisky tonight.

"I took your customary drink, now I'm done." I said.

The others sneered at my rejection.

"Come on Wood, don't be so stiff." Said Carr, "We're supposed to be havin' fun tonight."

"That's fine, but I'm not gonna drink." I said.

Rosemary sighed began to speak.

"Oliver just relax and-"

"I said no!"

The conversation came to a dead silence at my firm rejection. I moved my gaze down, not wanting to make myself feel any more uncomfortable with eye contact. Charlie came to my rescue.

"Well I told you this one had some grit to him!"

This brought a round of laughter from team and a 'Cheers to Oliver!'

I tried my best to join in with the jokes and stories for the rest of the night, but found myself listening more than talking. Around two or three in the morning the Firewhisky ran out, and Charlie announced that he would lead us back to Gryffindor Tower. I'm sure we must have made enough noise to wake half the castle, but we encountered no one on our way back.

The team understandably decided to sleep in Sunday, but I couldn't force myself to stay in bed longer than I normally did on weekends. Instead I walked down to the common room, and saw that Percy was reading at a table in the corner of the room. I made my way over to him. He failed to notice my presence until I sat down across from him.

"Oh Oliver! I didn't see you there." He said, "Uhm…look, I'm sorry about what I said on the train, I wasn't trying to upset you." He said.

"I know mate, let's just leave it alone then yeah?" I said.

"Sure."

I knew I wouldn't be able to stay mad at the prick for too long. He meant well at least. Plus, the conversation with Dumbledore gave me peace about the issue.

"I saw you made the team, congratulations." Said Percy.

"Thanks." I said lamely.

"Hm, I thought you'd be more excited." Said Percy.

"Just a bit tired this morning." I lied. I didn't want to get into what happened last night with Percy.

"Well regardless, I guess this means I'll have to come out to your games." Said Percy.

"Really? You'll come out to a _Quidditch game?_ " I said.

"Sure. Can't be that bad." He said.

I laughed. The idea of Percy at a game was entertaining, but despite his current objections to the sport, I believed he would enjoy Quidditch once he experienced it. There wasn't a Weasley alive that didn't love Quidditch.

"How are your brothers doing?" I asked.

"The Twins? Not sure really." Said Percy, "I tried to give them some advice about their classes and the castle."

"Bet that went well." I said sarcastically.

"Well no, surprisingly it didn't." Said Percy.

I rolled my eyes. He didn't notice.

"They just laughed at me and said they'd figure it out on their own." Said Percy, "I thought they'd be grateful for any kind of help, but that's my family for you."

"Well they're…different." I said.

Percy and I continued to chat for a bit as more students filed down the stairs and out of the common room to breakfast. Rosemary emerged from the girl's dormitory, and made eye contact with me on the other side of the room. She began a brisk walk towards my location. My first thought was that she was coming to apologize for last night, but it soon became clear that wasn't on her agenda.

"So, do you plan on being a prudent little shit the entire time you're on the team?" Said Rosemary once she was in range.

The venom in her tone caught me by surprise, and I could think of no reply to her question.

"Percy, would you mind letting me talk to Oliver alone?" She said.

My dorm mate jumped out of his seat and practically sprinted out of the common room. Rosemary took his seat and glared at me. I was unsure of how to best address the furious woman in front of me, but I gave it my best shot.

"You look…better than I thought you would this morning." I said.

That was not the best way to address her.

"Indeed I do Oliver, because most people can drink alcohol responsibly, and not turn into a wreck."

"Well tell that to Bryan, last night he barely made it to the Tower."

"Bryan Poole is a fuckin' twat." Countered Rosemary.

"Look, I don't see what the big deal is. I didn't want to drink, and honestly, I'm a little angry you lot kept pushing it on me." I said.

"You and me joke around all the time about getting' pissed, was that just you trying to act tough then?" She said.

"No! Look I'm not against it I just-"

"Just what Oliver?"

"Well I'm bloody thirteen! And I was uncomfortable sneakin' out of the Tower to begin with, and that Firewhisky tasted like complete shite!" I exclaimed. My outburst had drawn several confused looks from other students, but it felt good to let it out.

Rosemary stared at me in silence for a few moments while I took several deep breaths. When she spoke again it was with a much softer tone.

"Well Carr was responsible for the bottle last night, and he did pick out some nasty shit." Said Rosemary, "I'm sorry, and you're right, you shouldn't have to do anything you don't want to."

Rosemary gave me a hard stare and continued speaking.

"But promise me you're not gonna get on some moral high horse now that you're on the team, you're my friend Oliver, and I like getting into trouble with my friends."

I laughed, "Good to see you're dedicated to winning the Cup this year." I said sarcastically.

Rosemary snorted, "There's more to being a Gryffindor Quidditch player than just playing Quidditch." She said.

With that, she slapped me on the shoulder, and left the table. I frowned. I was glad Rosemary seemed to accept my decision, but her last comment didn't sit well with me. What did she mean that there was more than just playing Quidditch? Wasn't that our job?

I was incredibly nervous for the first practice of the year. I had a feeling the other Active team members still didn't trust me, and I couldn't really blame them. Not only was I vastly unexperienced, but I doubt I made any friends Saturday night.

"On the line lads!" Cried Birch, "Let's get some more sprints in! We need to be in shape quick!"

Julie's announcement was met with a collective groan. The first thirty minutes of practice was spent on conditioning, and Charlie informed us that this would be the norm until he determined we were fit.

The entire team was doubled over after we finished the last set of sprints. You wouldn't think riding a broom would take much stamina, but you'd be wrong. To maintain a high velocity of speed for a long period of time you need to have exceptional core strength and balance. The heavy wind resistance experienced at those high speeds also means you need a toned upper and lower body to keep yourself upright.

"Right! Let's go into drills! Split off into positions!" Said Charlie.

We spent the next half hour in four different groups of the four positions practicing fundamentals and basic mechanics. The team badly needed the work. Several months of little competitive play meant our form was rusty and sloppy. The Chaser's passes weren't crisp, the Beater's strikes were weak, and the backup Keeper and I were painfully slow compared to where Alec was at the end of last year. Only Charlie looked to be in perfect form. I honestly believe the bloke never needed a day of practice in his life.

"Half sets!" Yelled Charlie, "I want Wood, Carr, Poole, and Birch defending first."

We nodded and moved into position.

"Hayes, Weber, and Gilliam will be our attacking chasers and…" He paused, "Amanda, get some reps in as a pressing Beater."

The newest member of the reserve team nodded and took a bat and a position near the centerline.

The team tried to work the reserve players through as many positions as they could during practice, both to make sure they were adequately trained, and to give the Active players a full work through during practice.

Hayes snatched the Quaffle confidently, and organized her players into an attacking formation. Birch meanwhile set herself in the point slot, and began shouting instructions to our Beaters. Normally the setting of a defensive position would be my responsibility, but Julie was covering for my lack of experience.

"Oliver! I want to hear you shouting the whole time during play! Make sure to practice handling our Beaters!" Yelled Charlie.

I nodded and turned my attention back to the coming attack.

Half sets were the best way to simulate a game since teams didn't have enough players for a full seven on seven scrimmage. Basically, the attacking team would start at the centerline, and the defensive team would set up on the hoops. A number of different scenarios could be played out from there. We could practice attacking with a pressing Beater or without, defending with only Chasers, trying to force a turnover, counterattacking, delaying the game for our Seeker, or any other number of real game situations. These times during practice were when I learned the most about the game.

The three veteran players were resistant to my call outs for the first half dozen sets. They could tell I was a little lost, and clearly had no confidence in my play making ability. After getting chewed out by Charlie a few times, and paying attention to what Julie yelled during the plays, I started to pick up some situational awareness.

Rosemary swung a pass out to Weber who was far too wide on the wing. There was no way support would get out to him in time if we pressed.

"Julie! Sideline press! Take away his back pass!" I yelled.

Julie moved in between Rosemary and Weber and effectively cut off his help. At the same time, Carr moved towards the isolated Chaser, and smashed a Bludger at him. Dominick was trapped, and barley dodged the strike from Carr. The move left him off balance though, and Julie swooped in with a clean steal.

"Hayes! You screwed your winger with that pass! Make sure we rotate and stay mobile if we're gonna play it wide against two Beaters yeah?" Charlie said.

Rosemary nodded and waved her hand in apology towards Dominick.

"Good call there Wood, and nice execution all around on the trap." Said Charlie.

I couldn't help the stupid grin on my face at calling something right.

I did okay with the rest of the half sets. With Birch as my point Chaser we won more than we lost, but when she got rotated out the offence started to take over. This let me practice making saves in real time which I found to be significantly harder than during a drill. Still, when Charlie called an end to practice I was relatively pleased with myself.

"Saw some good things out there today." He said, "But not too many. We're gonna go back to practice every day."

This was met with loud objections.

"You said this year we'd only do three a week!" Said Poole.

"Well I thought a group with this many veterans wouldn't need as much practice, but after those dreadful half sets, I seem to be proven wrong." Said Charlie.

His tone wasn't angry or confrontational, instead it was even and matter-of-fact.

"I agree." Said Julie, "And our fitness is shite as well."

The players grumbled, but none of the others offered any further objections.

"Right then, we'll see you tomorrow same time." Said Charlie.

The players filed off the pitch to the showers, but I stayed around to speak with Charlie. When he saw me approach he smiled warmly.

"Don't take what I just said personally, you had a brilliant first practice, but I expected more out of those who returned." He said.

"Oh yeah I follow." I said, "There was actually something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Shoot."

"Well…" I said, unsure of where to begin. "Everyone here is dedicated to winning the Cup yeah?" I asked.

Charlie laughed, "Of course, is this about Saturday night? Because I am sorry about that, we shouldn't have pressured you-"

"No it's not about that, well sort of uhm…" I stopped, took a deep breath and let it out, "I feel like there are people on the team who are just here for fun, and don't take this seriously, and I don't know…I guess I just expected everyone to be more…" I couldn't find the words.

"Disciplined?" Offered Charlie.

"Yeah." I said.

Charlie stayed quite for a second, and addressed me in an understanding tone.

"You're a competitive, passionate player Oliver, and that's great because winning teams need that." He said, "But the struggle of every team is trying to find a way to get players like you and players who are here just for fun to work together."

"Why would people join at Quidditch team just for fun?" I asked.

Charlie laughed again, "There's more to being a Gryffindor Quidditch player than just playing Quidditch."

"Rosemary said the same thing." I said.

"Yeah she leans more towards the casual fun camp, but she works hard, and is turning into a bloody good Chaser." Said Charlie, "So it's my job to mesh her attitude with yours into a working team, as is the job of any Captain."

"But I still don't understand." I said, "Rosemary loves Quidditch so shouldn't she-"

"Yeah I mean she isn't as bad as that pair of Beaters we have, but think about it from her perspective." He said, "Rosemary wasn't exactly popular until she joined the Quidditch team, and now she's having it off with her choice of lads every week, and the whole House loves her."

My eyes bulged out, and I felt my face blush at Charlie's disclosure of intimate information. Charlie noticed my reaction and paled slightly.

"Sorry mate, bloody hell I forget you're only thirteen a lot." He said.

I stayed quite.

"Anyway, my point is that some people enjoy being on the team for different reasons, and that's okay. As long as we all work hard, and trust me to give us a kick in the pants if needed." Said Charlie.

I nodded.

"You'll see after we win our first game." Said Charlie and the Captain threw his arm around my shoulder.

"And as far as your aversion to drinking, I can get a hold of some smoother stuff if you ever wanna give it another shot." He said.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, "You really are determined to get a thirteen year old boy drunk are you? Now I know why you give me so much attention ya pervert." I said jokingly.

Charlie laughed.


	13. Chapter 13

Our first match against Hufflepuff was set for the second Saturday in November. This meant we had approximately two months of practice before playing our first official game. Charlie had us going five days a week to shake off the rust from the summer, which meant we had about forty practices to get our team together. Now forty practices sounds like quite a few, but I assure you it is not. It is impossible to build the kind of trust, teamwork, and organizational discipline required of a winning team in forty practices. Our passes were looking sharper, and the execution of set plays was becoming easier and easier, and our defense was much tighter, but I was convinced it wasn't enough. So, the Friday night before the game I was understandably panicked.

"I mean, did you even _see_ how sluggish Erick looked out there today? You could easily tell he wasn't even trying!" I exclaimed.

"Well Charlie did say to only go at half speed." Said Rosemary.

"Yes but he could have put more effort into going half speed!" I said.

"What does that even mean?" Said Rosemary dryly.

"And I let in three shots in a row during the half sets. _Three bloody shots._ " I said.

"Well I guess we'll have to score more than thirty points against Hufflepuff." Said Rosemary, I was annoyed that she wasn't taking my concerns seriously, "You do realize that's who we're playing tomorrow right?"

"Their Seeker is top class and-"

"Is he better than Charlie?" Said Rosemary.

I shut my mouth and sank deeper into my armchair closest to the fire.

"Of course not." I said, "But I wish you lot would start taking tomorrow seriously."

"We do Oliver, we've been having five days of practice a week since school started, and not even Slytherin is working that much. We're ready for this." She said.

"The only reason we've been practicing so much is because Charlie is doing what is necessary to win." I said, "Really we should be flying everyday-"

"Does Charlie look like a nervous wreck right now?" Asked Rosemary.

I glanced over to where the captain was sitting with the rest of the team, and some older Gryffindors at a table. They were talking loudly, and trading rude jokes back and forth.

"No not really." I said.

"Then maybe you should relax since the guy who's 'doing what is necessary to win' doesn't look like he's too troubled." Said Rosemary.

I took in a deep breath of air.

"I think I'm just gonna go to bed early." I said.

"Want me to come tuck you in? I'll read you a story if it helps you sleep tonight."

She delivered her line with a straight face, but I could see the very edge of her mouth twisting up in the slight hint of a smile.

"Cute." I said and resigned myself to my room.

Funny enough though, I only got a few hours of sleep that night. I spent the majority of the late hours tossing in my bed imagining countless situations where we'd get upset by the Hufflepuff team. Despite Charlie's insisting that I practice letting go of my worry and anxiety, I couldn't help myself from ruminating until the early hours of the morning.

I didn't feel groggy when I woke. My anticipation about the game refused to let me feel tired. The team met in the common room before heading down to breakfast together. Charlie said it was important we make an entrance, and to look as uniform as possible. I won't lie, the eleven of us walking into The Great Hall in matching uniforms made me feel a little bit more confident about the game. Carr and Poole were pushing each other and joking around as usual, but the rest of the team was silent. I looked over at Rosemary and saw that she wore a mask of perfect indifference. I suppose that was better than goofing around.

We sat down as a team at a suspiciously empty section, and began to eat in silence.

"Make sure you're eating mostly protein, that's what we need right now." I said.

"Thanks Mum." Said Weber.

'Mum' had become my nickname on the team. Apparently the other players thought I came off as bossy whenever I tried to give feedback. At first it annoyed me, but soon I decided that somebody had to take responsibility and at least act like Quidditch was serious business.

After breakfast we headed directly to the locker room, and we would stay there as a team for the remainder of the day leading up to the game.

I checked opened my locker, and checked through all of my gear to make sure I wasn't missing anything. It was too early to suit up, so I decided to look over the play book for a bit just in case I had forgotten something. After about an hour to ourselves, Charlie stood up and addressed us.

"Right, let's go over a few last minute notes real quick." He said, "The 'Puffs best shot of winning the game is through their Seeker, and even though I'm pretty sure I can beat him, we're not gonna take any chances."

Charlie motioned to Carr and Poole.

"Did you two decide which one of you is going to harass him?" Asked Charlie.

"I am." They both said at the same time.

I buried my head in my hands. I doubt they even paid attention to the tactics meeting on Thursday.

"Yeah that's what I figured." Said Charlie, "Erick, you'll stay home, and Bryan you'll go and hit him."

Our captain turned to address the rest of us.

"Now their Chasers aren't anything to really worry about, but we'll essentially be playing with only one Beater this game, so that means our Chasers have to track back and play strong defense. Don't leave Mum back here to clean up your mess." Said Charlie, giving me a joking nod.

"Well with the way Dom plays in the back I'm sure to have plenty of chances to clean up." I said.

This drew 'Ooooo's and whistles from the team, and a playful punch from Dominick Weber. Charlie began again once we settled down.

"I don't have much else to say. Get your gear on, and let's go win this thing." He said.

The team gave several 'Whoops' and began clapping and cheering. Finally, it looked like every player was serious and ready to play. I felt some of my anxiety release as everyone began giving each other encouragement.

"Let's go Hayes let's go!" Said Weber, "I want at least a dozen assists from you today, let's get that passing game going."

He moved over to our Beaters.

"Let's punish them today, hit 'em where it hurts!"

He moved over to where I was sitting, and clapped me on the back.

"You're gonna stop everything that comes 'atcha today Wood, and you know I got your back." He said.

I gave him a confident nod, and slapped his shoulder. I didn't talk to Dominick all that much outside of Quidditch, and his trust in me feel strange. Julie came over to me next, already suited up in her pads.

"Be loud out there today." She said, "You call the shots."

"Maybe you should today, you've got more experience."

She smacked me in the arm.

"The Keeper calls the shots. You've done it the past month at practice without my help, you can do it now."

And with that note of encouragement she left me on my own. The majority of the players were making their way towards the door to the tunnel. I could heard the echoing noise of the crowd seeping through the thick walls of the locker room. The whole school must have been out there.

I grabbed Charlie's play book out of my locker again, and went over a few defensive formations to calm my nerves. I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see the second oldest Weasley himself looking down at me.

"Come on, it's time to play." He said.

I don't know if it was the conviction of his words, or the certainty in his tone that eased all my fear, but as I stood up from the bench, I felt ready to play.

The team lined up in two columns at the door to the tunnel. The tunnel that lead to the pitch where hundreds of screaming students awaited our entrance. Rosemary was right next to me in line.

"Nervous?" She asked.

"Nah." I said.

She gave me a knowing smile.

"Hey when we win this game today." I said, "I'll letcha get me my first drink."

She punched me in the arm. I don't know why everyone was so insistent on doing that.

"Fuck yes Wood." She said, "Let's go win this bloody game."

Charlie moved to the front of the team, and pushed open the door to the tunnel.

"Alright lads. Pick up your brooms, and follow me!" He said.

We let out a strong cheer, lifted our brooms, and raced out into the noise.

Pain.

Sharp, splintering pain was all I could feel.

I opened my eyes slowly, and immediately shut them as bright light burned into my corneas. My entire body felt like it had been hit by a Body Binding curse, and my throat was scratchy and dry. I dared not to open my eyes again, the burning pain still hadn't subsided. Instead I concentrated on trying to move either my arms or legs. I was relived to find that both set of limbs were still functioning, but moving them was like moving through water.

I tried to concentrate on the last memories I had, but my head started to hurt every time I focused. The pain forced a dull moan from my parched throat, and I heard a voice soon after.

"Ah! Thank goodness you're awake Mr. Wood. Can you try and open your eyes?"

The voice belonged to Madam Pomfrey. Which meant that I was in the Hospital Wing. Which didn't mean anything good.

I shook my head at her request to open my eyes, and tried to say the word 'bright'. Apparently the good matron understood me, and I sensed to room dim significantly.

"Try now." She said.

I peeked gingerly, but opened my eyes completely when I was met with no pain. Madam Pomfrey was standing over me, and pouring a potion into a cup.

"Drink this." She said.

I obeyed, and downed the thick liquid in a single swallow. It had an awful taste, and sent shivers through my whole body.

"Now have some water." Said Pomfrey.

I took the cup of cold liquid gleefully, and drank the whole of its contents in a matter of seconds. After a few haggard breaths I asked the most obvious question.

"What happened?"

My voice was painfully hoarse, but it was still clearly understandable.

"You got hit in the head with a Bludger minutes into the game." Said Pomfrey, "Honestly, I don't know why the Headmaster allows _children_ to play such a dangerous game."

"But I don't remember anything." I said.

"That tends to be the case with head injuries dearie."

I concentrated on what the matron told me, and found that prolonged thinking about a specific idea gave me a nasty headache. I summoned all of my will power, and asked the next most obvious question.

"Did we win?"

Madam Pomfrey let out an exasperated 'huff'

"Honestly! You've been unconscious for a week now and the first thing you want to know if you won a Quidditch game!" She exclaimed.

"I've been out for a week!?" I said as loud as my voice would allow.

The revelation sent me into a panic. I felt my chest tighten, and my breathing escalate. Madam Pomfrey immediately looked concern.

"It's okay dearie. You're safe, you're going to be just fine."

It was amazing how quickly she could switch from a nagging tone to one of concern.

The information proved to be too much for me, and something seemed to short circuit in my mind. I saw darkness swarm to cover my vision, and released myself into sleep.

The next time I woke, I saw Rosemary, Tyler, Alfie, and Becs sitting around my bed. I appeared to be later in day based on how much sunlight was coming into the room, but I wasn't too sure.

Rosemary noticed my eyes were open first, and jumped to her feet.

"Oliver! Are you okay? We've been so worried!" She said.

I was surprised to see that she actually looked genuine, and was even close to tears.

"Rose…mary." I said in a dry voice, "Did we…win?"

The sixth year girl looked confused, but her face changed to understanding when she saw the conviction in my eyes.

"Of course we won." She said, "It was bloody Hufflepuff."

"Yeah, Gryffindor probably still would have won if they'd played without a Keeper at all." Said Tyler.

"Well that back up ya had wasn't much better than nothing" Said Alfie.

"Oi! Our friend is in the Hospital Wing, and you think it's a good idea to talk like that?" Said Becs.

She leaned down and gave me a hug as best she could.

"Hope you're not in too much pain?" She asked.

"Just some stiffness, and a mad headache when I try and think." I said.

"Yeah that'd be the concussion." Said Rosemary, "Had the same problem when I fell."

I nodded and started speaking again.

"I can't remember anything that happened after we left the tunnel."

"Well you didn't lose much." Said Rosemary, "Basically we went out, 'Puffs won the Quaffle on the toss, you set everyone in the defense, and then Carr let a Bludger slip right past him, and you got knocked in the head."

She rested a hand on my shoulder.

"Charlie was some kinda mad at him for letting you get hit." She said, "I reckon he'll come visit you in a bit."

I nodded and sat back, trying to absorb all of the information presented. The others seemed to notice I needed a bit of quite reflection, and we all sat together in a comfortable silence. Eventually Madam Pomfrey came out, and gave me another one of the foul tasting potions. The matron told me I needed one more night of bed rest before I would be released.

My friends stayed for another hour or so before leaving, and promised to meet me in the morning. Charlie came to see me soon after. He looked upset to see me in such a weak condition, but tried his best to cheer me up.

"You had a good set up there at the beginning, just bad luck with Carr, I've already chewed him out plenty." Said Charlie.

"I bet." I said with a smile.

"The team played well last week. I think they were inspired to win after you got hurt…Uh not that I'm glad it happened or anything!" He finished awkwardly.

I laughed.

"I'd take a concussion every game if it meant a Gryffindor win."

"Don't say that mate." Said Charlie in an uncharacteristically serious voice, "Somethings are much more important."

Before I could comment Madam Pomfrey came out to check on me again.

"Alright Mr. Wood, I'm going to dismiss you in the morning, you need to get walking around again." She said, "But you need at least another week of mental rest which means no classes, no reading, no homework, and especially no Quidditch." She gave Charlie a hard look with the last comment.

My captain cut in before I could object.

"Of course Madam Pomfrey, whatever it takes to keep him healthy."

The deep concern in his voice killed the argument on the tip of my tongue.

Charlie stayed with me a bit longer before retiring for the night, and let me get some rest. It wasn't at all what I pictured my first game would look like, but I fell asleep thinking that it would make an interesting story one day.


	14. Chapter 14

"But Professor! This is ridiculous!" exclaimed Charlie.

I winced at the sharpness of his voice. I'd been on Madam Pomfrey's "mental rest" orders for the past three days, but loud noises and deep concentration continued to give me troubling headaches.

"I understand your frustration Mr. Weasley." Said Professor McGonagall, "But Professor Kettleburn did not even know if his contact in Romania was going to come through, and next year is the only time the Dragon will be available."

"But why do you 'ave to keep it on the Quidditch Pitch?" Said Julie.

I winced and moved my hands over my ears.

"It's the only location that's large enough, and with magical protections already in place to keep students safe."

This explanation was met with a series of exasperated sighs and eye rolling. The Professor did not take it well.

"Now see here." She said standing up, "We are still allowing you to play your second games, they're just being moved up to December."

"But that only gives us two weeks to get ready!" Said Rosemary, "Hell, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are only getting one week of practice before their match!"

"And Oliver won't be able to practice until Monday!" Said Poole.

After mentioning my name, the team turned to look at me. By this point I was grinding my teeth in agony, and had closed my eyes. The pain of the headache was too intense.

"Sorry mate." Said Charlie softly, "Guess we got a bit too loud."

McGonagall began speaking again, but she too had a more reserved voice.

"I understand all of your concerns, truly I do, but having a Dragon and a world renowned trainer visit our school is a wonderful educational opportunity." She said, "Please try to remember that Hogwarts also functions as a school." She said dryly.

The team exchanged grumblings, but it was clear our pleas would no longer be heard, and we made our way out of the McGonagall's office. Charlie pulled us all into an empty classroom down the hall for a brief meeting.

"Okay, I know this situation is bollocks, but we can't change it, so we have to deal with it." Said Charlie, "The only good news is that Slytherin is getting about the same limited amount of practice as we are, and we looked much stronger against Hufflepuff than they did against Ravenclaw."

He walked over to the chalkboard at the back of the room, and began writing.

"Today is November 23rd." He said.

The captain was making a rough drawing of a calendar.

"And our game is on December 10th."

He circled all of the weekdays between those two dates.

"And since Oliver won't be joining us until next Monday, that means we have ten practices as a whole team to get ready for Slytherin."

"Who are no doubt the toughest team we're gonna play this year." Said Dominick.

"Yup." Said Charlie, dropping the chalk, "So we have two weeks to get ready, and I have no doubt we can, but we have to get serious."

He paused and looked at me.

"We have to get Oliver Wood level serious about this."

This statement caused a few chuckles, and some grunts of agreement.

"Now as you also know." He continued, "The second Hogsmeade trip of the year is set for the Saturday after our game. Now I want you to picture in your mind, walking into the Three Broom Sticks, and seeing the Slytherin team laughing and messin' about, havin' a grand old time celebrating a win."

The imagery invoked soft hissing and snorts from the team.

"Now I'd hate to see that shite as much as all of ya, so let's get it done these two weeks, and when we walk down the road to Hogsmeade, we're not gonna see a single fuckin' smilin' snake!" He finished with a flourish.

The speech brought the team to their feet, and everyone cheered loudly. The noise and excitement nearly made me black out due to the pain, but Charlie's words were so inspiring that I couldn't have cared less.

After the team cleared out and began walking towards the locker room for practice, Charlie pulled me aside.

"I want to make sure you rest these next couple days, we need you at one hundred percent on Monday." He said.

"Really I could play today mate, I feel fine." I said.

"Yeah, that's why you look like you're under the Cruciatus Curse every time somebody speaks above a normal volume."

I frowned, and he patted me on the shoulder.

"Sleep lots, we're gonna need you for this game."

When Madam Pomfrey told me I would be excused from classes and homework for a week, a part of me was excited. But "mental rest" is more like torture than rest. See, the only good part about missing class is that you can spend time doing something more interesting, but most interesting things require an active mind. I couldn't play Quidditch, couldn't listen to the wireless, couldn't play Exploding Snap, and couldn't make conversation for more than a few minutes. I couldn't even read books, and I was already pretty bored by the time I considered it.

For an entire week, I pretty much spent every day lying in bed either sleeping or trying to think about nothing, and dragging my sorry body downstairs three times to eat. I took walks in the evenings and mornings when it wasn't too noisy around the castle, and it's sad that those walks were the exciting highlights of my day.

By that weekend, I was able to stare at a piece of parchment with writing on it, and not immediately get a headache, so I spent those two days getting caught up on the work I missed that week. It was slow going though, and I doubt I wouldn't have finished without Percy's help.

"Here, how's this last part look." I said, passing my essay to Percy.

It was Sunday night, and the essay I just finished was my last piece of makeup work.

"Well…it's…" Said Percy.

"Does it at least make some kind of sense?"

Percy turned his head sideways as if to discover a new angle on the jumble of letters I scribbled onto the page.

"Well…I suppose it make sense…it's just not particularly eloquent." He said.

"Good enough." I said.

I snatched the parchment back, and tucked it in with the rest of my assignments.

"I'm too tired to try and write up something better, the Professors will understand if my work is a bit…lacking."

"You do realize this essay is for Snape right?"

"Well then I was doomed to get bad marks from the beginning." I said.

I looked around the common room. It was empty except for the two of us, most students had gone to bed ages ago.

"Anyway, thanks for your help this weekend mate, I couldn't have gotten this done and gotten ready for Slytherin at the same time." I said.

"Of course." Said Percy, "Although I do hope you'll be careful playing from now on, any more head injuries, and I suspect you'll lose the ability to read."

"Ha, and they call me Mum." I mumbled.

Percy gave me a puzzled look, but I was too exhausted to explain.

"Well I'm gonna go pass out for a few hours, might skip my first class. I owe you one mate." I said.

"Sounds good, I've got to finish up some pre-reading myself."

I laughed and began to climb up the stairs.

"I swear, you sure you're not a machine?"

Percy just looked confused.

I ended up sleeping through most of my morning classes, but I wasn't too concerned about it. Getting caught up after missing a couple classes was easier than a whole week. Besides, Madam Pomfrey did emphasize the importance of ample sleep. She probably meant I should have been going to bed earlier rather than sleeping until noon, but I wasn't going to sweat the details.

More importantly, I had my first Quidditch practice later that afternoon since my injury. My fitness and technique were going to be severely lacking considering I spent two weeks off a broom, but I was determined to get to one hundred percent by December 10th.

Before we got into the air that day, Charlie brought us in for a team meeting.

"Right, so Mum's back today." He said.

The team cheered and several players clapped me on the back.

"But we're gonna ease him back into things, so Wood, no work with the Quaffle today, and Beaters, don't hit anything towards him during the half sets."

I was disappointed not to be working between the hoops right away, but Charlie made sure I didn't get an easy practice.

"I want you to go through all of the conditioning drills from the beginning of the year until the rest of the team gets to half sets." He told me, "We've got two weeks, and I'm gonna take a guess and say your fitness is shite right now."

I nodded in agreement.

"I know I don't have to worry about you slackin' off, but-" He sighed, trying to find the right words, "Just don't fuckin' kill yourself today yeah?" He said with a concerned tone.

I nodded again, and pick up my broom.

I flew through each set of exercises again, and again, and again until my entire body was drenched in sweat, and my limbs were shaking from lack of use. Charlie called everyone in for half sets as soon as I finished my ninth move through the sets.

"Right, so half sets now, we're gonna tailor them towards what we expect to see against Slytherin, so please actually pay attention lads." Said Charlie, "And no shooting at goal today for Oliver's benefit. Let's work on passing, movement off the Quaffle, and communication in the defense."

Everyone nodded in agreement as Charlie continued to explain the parameters of the first set.

"Slytherin loves to bring as many bodies forward on the attack as they can. I've never seen them attack without a Beater, and sometimes they'll bring both." Said Charlie, "So first up I wanna see Wood in goal, Julie, Hayes, and Dawson as Chasers, and Porter and Clearwater as Beaters on the defense."

The players Charlie called moved off into a group to the side.

"Dominick and Gilliam will attack, and Erick, I want you to act as a pressing Chaser. Make sure to be extra aggressive, but aim nothing in Wood's direction."

The Beater nodded in understanding.

"We're gonna work in more bodies on the offense over time, and eventually have two pressing Beaters hitting ya." Said Charlie, "The team on defense, you're to keep formation for as long as possible. Don't let the aggressive Beater play create space for the offensive Chasers."

We nodded.

"Wood. You call the shots, but don't get physically involved in the play." Said Charlie.

"No worries." I said.

Both sets of players took their starting positions, and soon, it was back to Quidditch.

At first, most of my instructions were warnings about incoming Bludgers sent by Carr. We had the attacking Chasers and Beaters outnumbered, so it was relatively easy to force them back. Charlie put Hayes on offense after a few minutes though, and three versus two on defense made stopping the attack more difficult.

"Oi! We have to stay compact!" I yelled, "Trust your Beaters to protect you! We can't spread out when we're outnumbered!"

It was nerve racking, but the two reserve players kept Carr's Bludgers away, and allowed Julie and Dawson to stay in position.

Charlie moved Carr to defense towards the end of practice, and put Poole and Clearwater on as pressing Chasers. This was going to be tougher. It's easy enough to defend a single aggressive Beater, but two would be trouble, especially with only one defensive Beater.

Carr flew around the pitch like a mosquito, trying his best to protect Julie and Dawson, but it was too much. The Chasers made it past them easily now, due to the constant bombardment from Poole and Clearwater.

Carr managed to deflect a hit by Poole, but the redirection sent the Bludger straight at me. The distinctive whistling noise echoed through my ears, and something deep snapped in my mind. My legs went numb, and my hands started shaking, I knew I needed to get out of the way of the screaming missile, but my body was paralyzed. Fear gripped every muscle in my body, and I closed my eyes in preparation for the blow.

It never came though. Instead I heard a sharp crack. I opened my eyes and saw Erick Carr staring at me with genuine concern. It was the first time I'd even seen anything other than nonchalant painted across his face.

"You…okay?" He said in between gulps of air. He'd have to of moved at an impressive speed to intercept the Bludger.

"I don't know." I said, "I don't know what happened."

Charlie called an end to practice, and during his closing speech, everyone was looking at me with concerned eyes.

Rosemary tried to talk to me after practice, but I was too embarrassed to see her. I made up a lame excuse about wanting to go to bed early, and resigned myself to my dorm room without dinner.

I'm not sure what caused me to seize up like that when I heard the whistling of the Bludger, but I was convinced something was broken inside my mind. It took me a while to get to sleep that night, but a firm hand woke me up when it was still dark.

"Hey, it's Charlie, follow me."

"Wassss time it?" I asked groggily.

"Late. Now get some clothes on, and come on."

I was too tired to put up any kind of protest, and after a few minutes Charlie and I were sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room.

"Normally, for someone with your…current condition, I think the correct thing to do would be to talk to someone and slowly process the fear."

"I wasn't scared." I said, "I don't know what it was, I just froze."

"Well I don't know what to call it, I'm not a doctor." Said Charlie.

I noticed that we were making our way to the Quidditch Pitch.

"Point is, we don't have to luxury of time to get you over this…block we'll call it." He said, "Game is in two weeks, and we need you to be functioning."

"Where's this urgency coming from mate?" I said jokingly, "You're normally never _this_ serious."

Charlie stopped and turned to look at me with a hard expression.

"I don't like losing to Slytherin." He said.

The conviction in his voice muted any other questions.

We made it to the pitch, and Charlie led me up the nearest set of bleachers. In the moonlight I could see that Erick Carr was at the top waiting for us.

"So you gonna tell me why you dragged me out of bed Weasley?" He asked.

Charlie responded by handing him a bat and a broom.

"We're gonna cure Oliver of his block tonight. It's not gonna be pleasant, but Slytherin is only nine practices away, and we can't do this the slow way."

My heart dropped as I realized what Charlie was suggesting, and by the look on his face, so did Carr.

"Charlie you can't be serious, it's too dark to see-"

"You're a good enough Beater Erick, I trust you, and everyone on the team has to as well. I know you're not gonna let Oliver down again." Said Charlie.

The Beater stared at Charlie for several seconds before grabbing the broom and bat, and taking to the sky.

My heart rate was accelerating, and I was struggling to get my breathing under control.

"I'm going to release a Bludger now Oliver. I'm gonna stand right here next to you, and we're gonna get through this." He said in an even tone.

"Charlie…" I said, struggling to put together words, "Pl-please don't do this, I'm fine."

But the captain didn't listen, and I heard the click of the lock on the Bludger, and the sick whistling as the ball took to the sky.

The sound immediately brought me to my knees and I felt the same paralyzing fear stall my body.

"Just breathe Oliver." Said Charlie, "There's nothing to fear."

I heard a sharp crack as Carr sent the Bludger away. It was too dark, even in the moonlight, to see the ball and Erick flying around. I was completely horrified.

"Charlie please. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop!" I begged. I felt myself begin to cry.

"It's going to be tough mate, but remember, it's all just in your head." Said Charlie.

I'm not sure how that was supposed to be comforting, because for an ailment that was 'just supposed to be in my head' it was doing a pretty good job of rendering me helpless.

I heard the sharp crack of Carr's bat, and let out a brief sigh of relief. There's wasn't much time to rest those, as the whistling soon came back into range.

 _Crack!_

… _Crack!_

… _Crack!_

Each time, Carr sent the Bludger away, and I began to feel some of my fear slip away.

"Try and stand." Commanded Charlie.

I did, and was surprised to find strength in my legs.

I'm not sure how long the three of us spent out there in the dark, but eventually Charlie called Carr to stop. The Beater landed next to us. I heard the whistling coming closer this time, but managed to keep the fear at bay and remain on my feet. Carr moved in front of me, and I jumped as he caught the Bludger in his stomach, and stuffed it back into the chest of Quidditch supplies.

He then rose to his feet, and punched Charlie square in the jaw.

"What the hell were you thinking Weasley?" Said Carr, rage seeping through his words.

"I know it was reckless, but we only-"

"You think winning our next game was worth this?" Said Carr.

He looked over at me.

I was still standing, but barely. There were tear stains on my cheeks, and my whole body continued to shake.

"You're delusional." Said Carr, and he walked away into the darkness.

Charlie moved closer to me, and I could see there was regret on his face.

"Oliver-"

"Why?" I asked, "You told me at practice today to take it easy, and then you do this tonight?"

"I knew you were safe, I trust Erick, and we have to trust our Beaters-"

"I begged you to stop!" I screamed. My fear had been replaced my burning fury, "I've never been so scared in my life!"

"But it worked Oliver. I know it was horrible but-"

"I guess you thought I'd understand, because you know how much I'm willing to sacrifice for this team." I said, "But not this…not this."

I started to cry again. I couldn't help it. The fear, the anger, and most of all the hurt that somebody I trusted and looked up to as much as Charlie Weasley would do something like this to me was too much.

Oliver I-"

"Fuck you Weasley" I said, and began the long walk back to Gryffindor Tower alone.


	15. Chapter 15

Erick and I decided not to tell anyone what Charlie did that night. We knew he'd get expelled, and the Gryffindor team would have been placed on probation. The other players didn't deserve that.

To be honest, I considered quitting. I love playing Quidditch more than anything, but what happened with Charlie made me feel like I'd never have teammates I could rely on.

The scariest part was if Charlie had asked for my permission to try his reckless exposure therapy, I'm not so sure I would have said no. The thought never failed to give me shivers. Anger directed towards the Gryffindor captain was still present, but mostly I felt fear. I was afraid if I kept playing Quidditch at this level, I'd become as reckless like Charlie was that night.

I probably should have talked to Carr about it, but we weren't close at the time, and I was unsure of even how to begin that conversation.

 _"Hey Erick! You ever feel like Quidditch will one day destroy your life because of an unholy devotion to it?"_

I never seriously considered leaving, though. I knew if I explained what happened to Rosemary, she would completely understand me quitting, but I couldn't abandon her. I couldn't abandon my team, and I also knew a part of me would yearn to play Quidditch and damn the consequences. That part of me was terrifying.

The whole day after that horrible night, I spoke maybe a half dozen words to people. The other Quidditch players were concerned because of what they saw last practice. My other friends were concerned because I only got this quite when something tragic happened.

Rosemary finally cornered me as I was walking to the Gryffindor locker room for practice. She came up behind me, spun me around, and placed both hands on my shoulders.

"Look, I know you're upset with yourself for what happened yesterday, but you'll get through it okay?" She looked at me with a gentle kind of understanding she didn't show much, "I was skittish the first few times I got back on a broom after my fall."

"It's not that," I said. "I'm fine."

I refused to look up at her, tears were forming in my eyes.

"That's why you look like you're walking to your execution right now?"

"I'll be fine today," I took a deep breath and looked at her. "I promise."

Rosemary didn't appear to be convinced, but I pulled away and continued my march towards the locker room before she could object.

Charlie came into sight the second I walked into the locker room. The red hair was hard to miss. The captain was in the middle of a conversation with Birch and Weber, but when he noticed I entered the room, he fell silent. Erick was sitting by himself, trying, and failing, to hide glares directed at Charlie.

Everyone in the locker room could practically see the tension between the three of us, but no one breathed a word. Carr and I swore we wouldn't speak about what happened, but it was difficult to conceal our emotions with Charlie in the same room.

The sixth year Weasley looked disheveled. I don't think he got any sleep the previous night. His hair was tangled and unwashed, his face looked pale despite the tan color of his skin, and his eyes had an intense pain in them.

He never moved to address me or Erick, but I hadn't expected him to. Earlier that day I tried to rehearse what I'd say if Charlie tried to apologize to me, but I never came up with anything profound.

Everyone on the team was exchanging glances with one another, no doubt alarmed at the hostility present in the room. Finally, Charlie began speaking.

"Let's get out to the pitch. Got work to do today."

His tone was flat, and missing the usual conviction.

Carr and Poole started knocking a Bludger back and forth during individual warm ups. The whistling sound failed to render me helpless like it had the other day. What do you know, torturing someone until they snap appears to be an effective way of curing a phobia.

Birch flew over to where I was flying through my usual warm ups.

"What the fuck was all that?" she said. Her voice was sharp and demanded answers.

"Don't know what you mean," I said dejectedly.

"Bollocks," she crossed her arms in a gesture that suggested I wasn't getting away easy. "If there's a problem between players on the team, it effects all of us. You understand that Wood?"

"Fuck off Birch," the anger from last night returned, "Go ask Charlie if you want bloody answers."

I honestly thought the seventh year Chaser was going to punch me right there. Not many people stood up to Julie Birch, for obvious reasons.

She grabbed my shirt, and pulled me towards her.

"I'll do that. Now fix your shite attitude, we've got a game coming up."

She let go of my shirt and sped away in Charlie's direction. She tried using the same blunt delivery on the captain, but it didn't appear to work. After a few minutes, Birch stormed off, clearly upset.

The practice was painfully awkward. No one looked to be running through their technical drills with any conviction. Players were whispering comments to each other as they passed in the air, and everyone was dreading half sets. We all knew the team wasn't going to work together effectively today.

When it came time, Charlie called everyone in, but didn't start assigning players to positions.

"Last night I dragged Oliver out to those stands over there, and forced him to listen to a Bludger fly around in the dark," he said, "It was a horrible thing to do."

Charlie looked at me with an intense expression before speaking again.

"I'm sorry Oliver."

The blunt delivery of his apology shocked me into silence. Despite my attempts to prepare for this exact situation in my head earlier, I couldn't come up with a single word to say to him.

"I know my actions were regretful, but we've got a game coming up and we can't have –"

"You did what?" said Weber, "I don't understand. Why were you letting a Bludger fly around last night?"

Charlie sighed, "My plan was to break Oliver's fixation over the Bludger quickly and that seemed –"

"But how did you keep the Bludger from hitting –"

"He made me fly around in the dark, blindly swatting at the damn ball while our Keeper was crumpled on the ground crying!" yelled Erick.

The Beater's fists were clenched, and he was barely containing his righteous fury.

"What the fuck Weasley…" said Poole.

"I know it's bloody awful!" The captain was animated now, "I regret everything that happened last night, but we have a game coming up and we have to –"

I took off on my broom, heading in the direction of the locker room. I couldn't stand being in the air with the team any longer. Nobody tried to stop me, everyone was still in too much shock.

Asking the team to put aside what happened last night in order to focus on a game was so unlike Charlie. Our captain knew how to get serious in preparation for a match, but the kind of blind devotion needed to ignore the pain of a fellow teammate was not characteristic of Charlie Weasley.

Such tunnel vision was more a characteristic of me.

The anger, betrayal, and hurt all fled to the unseen parts of my mind. Instead, in that moment, I was filled with deep shame. I saw in Charlie what I would become one day. If I lost myself in the fervor of the game, how far would I push myself? How far would I push someone else?

The questions made my skin crawl and when I landed outside the locker room, my whole body began to shake with violent intensity. When I was younger, my passion for Quidditch was only something I saw as a positive part of myself. Now, I doubted everything positive about it.

The boy's showers in the locker room were open with smooth marble flooring, and had several towers with shower heads, allowing multiple players to wash at once. I thought the burning water might help clear my head. My clothes were still on when the water started pouring out on me, and I was too lost inside my head to realize I needed to take them off. The shower and steam failed to soothe the jumble of emotions inside me, so I crumpled to the slick floor and began bawling. What happened in the past two days was too much for a thirteen year old kid.

Quidditch was supposed to be fun. This was supposed to be when I worked at becoming the person I always wished I could be. The only pain I was supposed to feel playing this game was in defeat. I never expected it to be this ugly.

I don't know when Rosemary came in and turned the water off, but the shower had turned ice cold. She didn't say anything at first. The sixth year girl just couched, lifted me into a sitting position, and hugged me fiercely.

"If it makes you feel better," she said softly, "Julie gave Weasley two black eyes."

I snorted, "I didn't even think she liked me."

"I didn't think she liked anybody," said Rosemary.

"Well she liked Charlie enough," I said, "They were…" I trailed off awkwardly.

"Eh, they slept together maybe once or twice, nothing serious there," said Rosemary.

"Oh."

We sat there together for a few minutes longer before Rosemary spoke again.

"Listen, I'm not going to try and rationalize what Charlie did to you, but maybe some context would help with the pain?" she offered weakly.

In that moment, I trusted Rosemary more than anyone else. I nodded for her to continue.

"Charlie's always had a…thing…about Slytherin. I think it comes from his background as a Weasley. Their family has serious bad blood with that house."

She paused, giving me a chance to comment. I remained silent.

"Charlie and Alec were very protective of the team last year, and when I fell because of that sodding wanker Montague, Charlie's hatred of Slytherin only got stronger."

Rosemary sighed, and pulled me into a tight embrace once again.

"So I think that's why he did that awful thing," she said.

"It's not right," I mumbled weakly.

"No it's not."

"But I could see myself doing the same thing."

"You would never do that to someone Oliver."

"Wouldn't I though?" I tilted my head to look at her. My words were more of an innocent question than a challenge, "Everyone knows how mad I am about Quidditch."

"Charlie didn't do this because he's passionate about Quidditch. He did it because he carries hatred with him, and you have none of that hatred Oliver Wood!" She didn't sound confrontational, merely firm, as if stating an obvious fact.

"Hayes, can I speak with Oliver?"

We both looked up to see Charlie standing in the doorway of the shower. Rosemary looked at me, I gave a nod of consent. Without another word, the Chaser stood up and left me alone with the captain.

He sat down across from me, on the other side of the drain. His face was bloody and bruised, and already his eyes were swelling.

"Looks like Birch got you good," I offered.

"Yep," said Charlie.

We both sat there in silence for a few moments, each just looking at the other.

"Are you going to try and apologize again?"

"I'm resigning as captain."

I sat up straight, and looked at him with shock.

"Is this your way of –"

"It was the team's decision. Julie will act as captain for the remainder of the year, and I'll ask McGonagall to pick someone else next year," he said.

"If she finds out why you're stepping down…"

"The team agreed not to tell," he said, "Unless you object?"

I stared at the Seeker in disbelief, but I raised no objection.

"Rosemary was right you know." Charlie looked down and brought his hands to his chin, "I have a lot of hatred for Slytherin."

"Can't blame you for that." My voice lacked any emotion, I was too drained.

"But you're not like me Oliver." He was looking in my direction now, "I mostly use this game to exercise my hatred, but you play because of your love for Quidditch."

"I've never seen hate in you. I've never seen you try and hurt someone or…or even get that mad!"

"I guess it only really comes out in regards to Slytherin, but it's always there."

His face sagged, the corners of his mouth bent into a deep frown, and his eyes were glued to the marble below.

"Playing doesn't even make me happy anymore, I let Slytherin do that to me. All I care about is beating them, like that would somehow fix all the problems in the world."

It was difficult to stay angry at Charlie when he was opening up this way.

"It's a pretty hollow feeling," he finished.

"Do you want me to feel sorry for you?" I said.

"No."

Nothing the sixth year boy was saying made any sense. Charlie wasn't hateful. When you saw him in the common room he always had a smile on his face, and I'd never seen him so much as raise his voice at someone unless they deserved it.

I looked at him, really tried to see him. Maybe he was this flawed, broken kid who's trying to understand why playing Quidditch leaves him feeling empty.

Everyone thought Charlie Weasley was the greatest. He was a brilliant Quidditch player, Prefect, and more popular than most. Maybe I had just been caught up in hero worship too long to notice his flaws.

"You've got the potential to be one of the greatest Seekers ever," I said.

At first I thought he wasn't going to respond, but in a whisper of a voice he spoke again.

"Maybe when I was your age."

"Then why don't you quit?"

"Because I want to help you succeed, or maybe I'm just too scared to stop," he said and laughed, "Sorry I didn't turn out to be as noble as everyone thinks I am."

I shrugged. The floor of the shower was dry, the sun had gone down a while ago, and I couldn't think of anything profound left to say.

"For what it's worth," I started, "I think you're stupid idea sort of worked. The whistling didn't bother me today."

"It wasn't worth it," said Charlie.

"No, I guess not."


	16. Chapter 16

Everything wasn't fixed after the conversation with Charlie in the locker room. All of the hostility and resentment seemed to drain out of the team, but those feelings were replaced by a deep awkwardness. No one wanted to look each other in the eye, and everyone was being unusually restrained when talking to each other.

Everyone except Julie of course. She was the only reason the remainder of our practices were productive. Her philosophy seemed to be that the team wouldn't be able to think about the implications of what Charlie did if we were always exhausted.

Personally, I found the arrangement to be favorable. I needed the extra conditioning from my two week injury hiatus. The others were less than pleased with the demanding labor, but not even the pair of loafer Beaters raised an objection. We couldn't afford anymore contempt between our ranks.

Charlie avoided the team for the majority of our practices. It was probably for the best. No one was sure how to talk to him.

Seekers are largely independent of their teams to begin with, and can go entire practices working on their own. Not that the former captain needed any practice. He especially kept his distance from me, either to make me feel safe, or out of embarrassment for the disclosure of his most personal inner demons.

He looked terrible, though. His shoulders seemed to be permanently slumped, and his eyes found the ground more than anything. A few times, I caught a glance of his face. Haunted, was the best word I could come up with to describe it.

I missed his cocky, confident attitude, and the pieces of encouragement he used to give me. I was more than willing to forgive Charlie for what he did, and the sixth year had shown he was deserving of that forgiveness. But I couldn't begin to imagine how we could move on. I couldn't imagine ever having a normal conversation with my former captain, my friend, again. That's what brought on my most recent episode of depression. It was hopeless to think the team would ever heal.

As the match against Slytherin continued to come closer, I started to understand the hatred Charlie had spoken of. Gryffindor and Slytherin students were jinxing each other in the halls, forcing students from their respective houses to walk together in groups. It reminded me of the gangs in movies my dad and I used to watch.

Everything wrong that happened that week was the fault of a Slytherin. Extra homework from Snape was obviously an attempt to occupy the Gryffindor players. The malfunctioning toilet on the third floor was a rude prank from one of the conniving snakes, and the dreary weather must have been a dark enchantment cast by one from _their_ house in order to damper Gryffindor spirits.

The hatred seemed to radiate from other students. This wasn't some ordinary school rivalry, this was a struggle that transcended the walls of Hogwarts castle. It was larger than a competition for points, it was larger than disputes between old families, and it seemed to be larger than all of Wizarding Briton itself. The hatred was ancient and deep.

I just wanted it to be over, no longer excited by the opportunity to defeat our rival house. It seemed more a burden to play on Saturday than a privilege.

At first I couldn't understand why I hadn't noticed this hatred in my first two years. Then I remembered the encounter with the Pure-Bloods over the summer, and the unseen fury that drove Charlie to hurt me. Maybe this anger could not be understood, until you were touched by it.

These ideas shook my faith in Quidditch for the second time that week. I used to think the game always brought people together, and celebrated the unity of nations. The World Cup was a brilliant accomplishment of international cooperation, but this Gryffindor, Slytherin rivalry…

I wrestled with the idea that by playing next Saturday, I would be contributing to the continuation of the hatred I saw in my fellow students. Looking back, it was silly to think a single Quidditch game would be representative of years of prejudice in Wizarding society, but I had a tendency to misrepresent the importance of Quidditch matches.

The rest of the team struggled to cope with the increased fervor of their fellow classmates. Normally, they would have taken the added pressure of destroying their rivals in stride, but the wounds Charlie opened had yet to close and everyone still felt vulnerable.

That Friday, eight days before the match, Julie had to cut practice short. Rosemary made a bad pass during one of the half sets and proceeded to break down into tears. Shortly after consoling her, Dominick Weber let out a wild tirade of curses when one of his shots sailed wide of the hoops. Birch decided everyone needed a break.

"Look. It's been a shite week," she said. "But next week is gonna be even worse."

She wasn't making a threat, merely stating a fact. We had all gathered in a circle on the ground of the pitch to hear her speech. All of us except Charlie. The former captain was still flying circles up in the air.

"All of us are going to take this weekend off," she said. "Completely off. No thinking or working on Quidditch, and avoid getting sucked up in the rivalry as best ya can. We're not strong enough to deal with that right now."

It was the closest thing to empathy I'd ever heard from Julie Birch.

"Rest. Relax. Cry. Scream, do whatever you have to do this weekend. Cus come Monday, we're going one hundred percent until the game."

Her speech inspired no rousing applause or cheering like Charlie's had. Was that moment we all shared in that classroom really only a week ago?

We looked a completely different team today. Beaten. Broken. Disheveled, and in desperate need of rest. Rosemary walked over to me after the team moved apart. Her eyes were still red.

"Some of the team's gonna head up to the Astronomy Tower after dinner tonight. Wanna come?"

I nodded.

She gave me a small smile, and headed to the locker room. I looked up. Charlie was still flying circles.

Rosemary, Erick, Dominick and I were the only ones who showed up that night. Not a single person from the reserve team. I remember thinking we needed to get those four more involved with the active team, but that was a problem for another time.

We all sat down on blankets and stared up at the night sky.

"Are we even allowed to be up here?" said Dominick.

"Probably not," said Carr. He looked over at the Chaser and gave him a wry smile, "Do you care?"

"No, not really," said Weber.

We sat together in a comfortable silence before Rosemary addressed the elephant.

"We're gonna lose on Saturday if we don't fix this."

"Wow, way to inspire confidence, Hayes," said Erick.

"Just stating the obvious," she said.

"Charlie and I had a heart-to-heart. I'm not angry at him anymore," I said.

"What he did was mad, though. You really just gonna give him a pass?" said Dominick.

"No. I don't know, I mean what he did doesn't excuse all the good he's done for me, for the team," I said.

"I hear ya Wood," said Carr. "Charlie's been one of my best mates for years now, but I was so angry that night…" He trailed off.

"Hey, didn't Birch say we shouldn't talk about Quidditch anyway?" said Dominick.

"You think Julie knows the right thing to do here?" said Rosemary.

"Well she wasn't the one who snapped out there today," said Dominick.

Rosemary whirled on the boy and fixed him with a death glare. The Chaser held up his hands in a defensive posture.

"Hey, I snapped too, I'm not tryin' to lay blame, just pointing out a fact," said Weber.

Rosemary set herself back on her blanket, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

"Well _technically_ she said not to talk about it this weekend, and today's still Friday," she said.

"Weekend starts when that last class ends on Friday," I said.

Rosemary smacked me.

"You're not allowed to take his side," she said jokingly.

This brought a laugh out of everyone. We needed it.

"Seriously though, what are we gonna do?" I asked.

"Maybe we shouldn't try and fix it," Said Erick. "Maybe we should just…talk, hang out together and forget about next Saturday for a bit."

"So do what Julie said?" said Dominick.

"I don't know Dom, you wanna talk about this shit anymore?" said Erick.

The Chaser grunted a negative response.

"Okay then, new topic of conversation," The Beater turned to face Rosemary, "Is Lewis as good in the sack as he says he is?"

Rosemary snorted, "He been bragging has he?"

"Oh yeah, talking a big game in the common room the other night," said Erick.

I remembered overhearing the loud boy boast about sex with Rosemary, it was uncomfortable, but I was getting used to my teammate's more private practices.

"That lad couldn't please a lady if his life depended on it," said Rosemary. "But he's nice to look at, so I guess he's got that going for him."

Dominick and Erick laughed.

"Yeah I suppose he does," said Erick.

"He called you a slag," I said.

Rosemary shrugged, "So do most men who can't handle an experienced lady."

"But don't you ever think it's a bit much?" I offered.

"You think I should be savin' myself then?" said Rosemary with a cocked eyebrow.

"Well…no but…I don't know um," I struggled to find the words. To be honest, Rosemary's active sex life had bothered me, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up in the past, and now I was deeply regretting doing so now.

"Go easy on him Hayes, he's still young," Said Dominick.

Rosemary turned to fully address me, and spoke much like how a professor would.

"The number of sexual partners a lady has is not reflective of her character," she said. Carr and Weber were mouthing the words along with her. "Had to teach these two that when I first joined the team."

"Yeah, imagine our surprise to learn the only other girl on the team was just as randy as the boys," Said Dominick.

This earned him a smack from the female Chaser.

"Well did you guys ever…?" I couldn't say the words, but I did my best to gesture with my eye.

"Nah shagging teammates is frowned upon," said Weber.

My mind immediately went to Charlie and Birch.

"Besides, I've been happily seein' Jolie since fourth year," said Dominick.

I vaguely remember seeing Dom with an attractive girl in his year, but I had never been introduced.

"And I…" Erick looked hesitant for a minute, "I prefer blokes."

I looked at him confused for a moment before realization dawned.

"Oh…Oh!" I said.

"Jesus, am I gonna have explain that one as well?" said Rosemary.

"N – No! I mean, that's fine! I'm not uh, it's not," I was once again struggling to speak.

Erick started laughing, "Relax Oliver, I forget you're only thirteen," he said. "Just don't go spreading that around, it's not exactly something most people are okay with."

"That's old enough to know these things Carr," said Rosemary, "And Oliver's not like that, he's just a bit sheltered."

"Yeah, what are they teachin' kids these days in school?" said Dominick.

This brought another round of laughter.

My sex education up to that point had been severely lacking. Neither of my parents had brought the subject up with any kind of explanation in mind, and Hogwarts didn't exactly teach that _stuff_ either. My teammates decided to catch me up in my education for the remainder of that evening. It was a very informative night.

Julie Birch ended up being correct, a weekend free of Quidditch was exactly what the team needed to refocus. Everyone looked sharp at practice on Monday. Even Charlie looked a little better. I tried to find the former captain all weekend, but he seemed to not want to be found.

"Right, let's get to it," Said Birch, characteristically choosing not to waste time with small talk.

That Monday was a good practice. The team looked fantastic in the half sets, and at the end, Julie announced that for the remainder of the week, we would be focusing on countering Slytherin's defensive and offensive tendencies. When we ended, I ran over to Charlie.

"Hey," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder.

He turned around, and gave me a weak smile.

"Have a good weekend?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Spent a lot of time with Julie."

I nodded in understanding.

"How 'bout you?" he asked.

"Yeah it was nice," I said.

An awkward silence hung between us.

"I'm not mad at you or anything," I said.

"I know."

Silence.

"Guess I just wanna fix things as quick as possible yeah?" I said.

"Might just take some time," he said.

I smiled and walked with him back to the locker room.

Julie was also correct in her assessment about this week being worse. The tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor was thick. More and more kids were being sent to the Hospital Wing for fighting. Meals in the Great Hall were particularly stressful. I could practically feel the glares from the Slytherin table, and unsure glances from my fellow house.

I knew the Gryffindor team trusted me completely, but to every other Gryffindor, I was just the Keeper that got knocked out. Untested.

Their doubt wasn't unwarranted. Keepers were normally one of the most experienced players on a team, but I couldn't help that. I tried to erase the doubt, practice the mental discipline that Charlie preached was so important. Couldn't wipe it all, though.

Tuesday and Wednesday were not as successful. The team still struggled against two pressing Beaters, and Slytherin was no doubt going to use that system frequently on Saturday.

"Carr! You're just going to have to move faster!" yelled Birch.

Erick was once again playing against a two versus one in a half set.

"I can't fly any faster Julie!" he said, "We gotta pull Bryan off the Snitch to help cover."

"Can't do that. We needed him to help give Charlie a clear shot," she said.

"Charlie's the best Seeker in the school, and he'd only be competing against Slytherin's Seeker," said Carr, "Plus, if Slytherin are pressing with two Beaters, we're not gonna have the Bludger control to pressure their Seeker anyways."

Charlie flew in-between the two arguing players.

"He's right Julie, the Chasers need Bryan more than I do," he said.

Birch gave him a hard look before relenting.

"Fine, but your Bludger defense better be flawless if we're pulling both of ya," she said. "We'll start there tomorrow."

Having two Beaters to counter the aggressive Bludger bombardment improved our defensive capabilities immensely. Birch thrived as a physical, defensive player when she wasn't being hammered by Bludgers. She would be the key on Saturday to stopping Slytherin's Chasers.

We didn't get to work on our offensive strategy until Friday. The team decided since Slytherin pressed so high up the pitch, they would be vulnerable to quick counter attacks.

"This is all on you, Wood," said Birch, "The quicker you can get us started out the back, the better chance we'll have at scoring."

I nodded, eager to practice the movements.

A counter attacking style of play can be exhausting. All of your offensive movements have to be as fast as possible, and that wears out your team's stamina quickly. To get around this, a Chaser can leak out of the defense right before a turnover or when the other team's about to shoot. If the Keeper gets possession of the Quaffle quick enough, they can then launch it to the leaking Chaser, and save everyone some stamina.

It's a risky move though, the other team has to get drawn in close to your own hoops, and the leaking Chaser might leave the defense vulnerable. Still, if the Keeper can get the ball out, it's an almost guaranteed goal.

Hayes was designated as our leaking Chaser, because she was the least effective on defense. We practiced working the Quaffle out to her so much, that by the end of practice, I could lob it to her without even looking.

We ended practice with a strong positive feeling, a big contrast to last week. I still couldn't shake some of my lingering doubts, though. The game tomorrow was going to bring all of us to our limits. I could only hope we wouldn't break.


End file.
